The Compromise
by Pointy Objects
Summary: I can feel your feet touching mine. If you can't dance, there's someone else in line. Sequal to Ruthless.
1. Announcement

__

So, after much deliberation, I've decided that I'm completely re-doing Hurricane. Consider this a compromise, because I was going to scrap it altogether, but I love it, so that wasn't going to happen. Anyway, I really wanted to make this story work, and I realized that, although I was doing pretty well with my chapters, I wasn't putting my all into my chapters. And honestly, if I'm not happy with my own writing, how can I expect you guys to be? Exactly. I can't. It'd be madness. So, I've revamping it, changing stuff around (I may even change around how Helga and Derek meet…his name might not even be Derek! That's how I roll…) and it's going to better than ever. Wow, I'm surprisingly happy about my new version.

For the most part, I left out A LOT of details regarding the Helga/Arnold/Derek fandango. And I realized that I made it hard for the story to be anything other than a basic Arnold/Helga story, which is not what I wanted. So, I'm not going to say what exactly will change, but there will be changes. Nothing drastic. Derek's not going to be a vampire, or anything. Well, that'd be pretty cool…nah, never mind.

__

Don't be too angry, alright? You guys have no (no, no, no, no, no, NO) idea how much I was…not quite hating, but I was really unhappy with Hurricane. It's hard to explain; Nothing was going as I wanted, and it was too hard to add in the necessary details without confusing everyone (myself included). Call it a lack of planning, but I just didn't do it right the first time. So, I'm trying again. I think this'll be much better. The storyline is essentially the same, but with added detail and a few minor changes here and there. Hope you like it. It'll be up in about…now. Check it out.

-PointyO

aka

Antoinette


	2. Meet Me in The Middle

_**GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER ONE, OR YOU'LL BE SO CONFUSED THAT THE NEXT TIME YOU EAT OUT YOUR WAITRESS WILL TAKE YOUR DRINK ORDER...BUT SHE WON'T COME BACK! DO IT NOW! **_

_**Love,**_

* * *

Helga tied her hair up in a messy jumble on the top of her head. Normally, she hated both the people who did that and the way it looked. Not to mention the fact that when her hair dried, it would more than likely be tangled beyond all belief. For the sake of time and the pain that currently inhabited nearly all of her limbs, she forsook caring about her hair for the convenience of a messy bun. Once her hair was secured and her bag filled and zipped up, Helga exited the empty locker room and walked outside. The February afternoon wasn't as cold as Helga expected, but he still kept her jacket close to her body. She winced each time a breeze blew past her; dressed only in jeans, a thin sweater and tennis shoes, she was still cold, even after such a vigorous workout. Pausing in the sidewalk, she stopped to fish her cell phone out of her oversized duffel bag.

"Hello?" she asked, bringing the device up to her ear.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hi, Phoebe. What's up?" Helga asked, resuming her walk. Helga didn't have a long walk home, but she still wasn't keen on the idea of walking around the city in the early-evening.

"Nothing really, we were all just heading off to some party, and if you're done with rehearsal, you should come." Phoebe said, both hopeful and cautious in her tone.

Helga groaned to herself. 'That's right. What's-her-face's party is today', Helga thought. She wasn't one to stay too closely attached to any social circles, but she'd heard of the party and was considering attending before realizing she had a four-hour practice session at the studio to attend. Phoebe's intentions were definitely pure, there was no question in that. But the term "we" was anything but broad.

"I'd love to, Pheebs," Helga began, looking both ways and crossing the street before continuing. "But I just got out of rehearsal, like…minutes ago, and I'm bushed. Not to mention my feet are killing me and I smell like sweat. You guys go on without me." she finished, smiling.

Phoebe paused for a moment. Knowing she was treading on thin ice. Helga," she started. "Arnold would really like you to come."

Helga sighed and ran a clawed hand up her forehead and through her bangs. "Alright, fine. Let me drop by the house, and I'll change, okay?" Helga asked. She didn't give Phoebe much of a fight, but there was definitely a battle going on inside her head.

"Isn't your car in the shop?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah." Helga replied. Patting her pockets for a pair of gloves. "I'm walking home now, give me about a half an hour to get home and then a few minutes to change, okay?"

"No need." Phoebe said, hanging up.

'No need?' Helga thought, staring at her phone. She was snapped out of her confusion when a car that was coming up the street beeped at her. Whirling around, she stopped and smiled at Phoebe through her car's windshield. To Phoebe's right sat Gerald, offering a small wave. Helga waved back and advanced to the car, hoping that no one was in the backseat. Most of the time Phoebe used the words "we" or "us", there were four participants, and Helga had no doubts about who the fourth member would be.

To her relief, and only slight disappointment, the back seat of Phoebe's white Volkswagen Jetta, was empty aside from a few books. Helga slid in and buckled her seatbelt.

"Thanks for picking me up, Pheebs." Helga said. "'Sup Gerald." Helga asked. It wasn't so much of a question, than it was a greeting.

"Hey Helga." he replied. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "Hey, lemme ask you something…" he said.

"Gerald…" Phoebe said, warning him under her breath from the front seat. They were currently sitting at a red light and she was able to turn her full attention towards him. Helga could have sworn she heard a sharp utterance of "don't" from Phoebe, but she couldn't be sure.

"What is it?" Helga asked.

"Umm, I was just wondering…are you and Arnold…"

'Fanbloodytastic, ' Helga thought. 'This again…'

"Are you guys, talking?" Gerald finished.

"Talking?" Helga asked, dumbfounded. "Like, are we speaking to one another?"

"Well, that, but are you guys '_talking_'?" He put special emphasis on the word now.

"I'm not quite sure I follow." Helga replied.

"Helga, it's very simple. You. Arnold. Talking. Are you?" Gerald said, turning around now.

"Gerald, you're making no progress at all. Please drop it." Phoebe asked, exhausted by the small misunderstanding.

"I'll drop it, when she answers." Gerald replied, calmly.

"I'll answer when I understand the question." Helga retorted.

"Are you and Arnold _talking_?" Gerald asked, on the edge of hysterics.

"Not right now, I'm _talking _to you!" Helga replied. Phoebe and Gerald erupted in laughter then, and Helga took the opportunity to scowl while they were composing themselves. "If you guys are through, would someone please clarify?"

Gerald spoke up, finally full from his laughter. "'Talking', in the context I was using it in, is when two people are not exclusive with one another, but have a sort of relationship, regardless. This stage of the relationship ends when they begin dating." Gerald said.

Helga rolled her eyes and smiled. Of course he'd win this debate. Helga could go head to head with a lot of people regarding words, usage, grammar and the like, but the only real formidable opponent was probably Gerald, and Phoebe on occasion. They were enrolled in the same AP English classes two years in a row, and had the highest grades of the current AP English students in the school. Despite his, somewhat unconventional methods, Helga respected him, and only gave him a hard time every so often. Still, she had her doubts about the term "talking". For all she knew, he probably made the word up himself.

"And I know what you're thinking, and I did not make up this word. Straight out of the Urban Dictionary." he said, with a self-satisfied smug on his face.

"Remind me to use that on our AP exams this year." Helga joked. "'The social paradox between Catherine Earnshaw and Edgar Linton in Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights was not that of true love…they were just talking.'"

"Hey, I answered your question, you answer mine. What's the deal with you and Arnold?" Gerald asked, taking on a more serious tone now.

"Well, I don't think we're talking. Well, maybe. I don't know. It's all a big mess." Helga replied, diverting her attention to something outside the window. When the car pulled up to Helga's house, she hopped out of the backseat and towards the door. "You guys can come in if you want. I'll just be a second." Entering the house, Helga unlocked the front door and left it open, in case they did decide to come in. Upstairs she ran into her room and started to get dressed. She decided to skip a shower (she'd bathed after practice, and the smell of perspiration clung more to her clothes than her body), and went straight to getting dressed. Pulling on a pair of straight legged jeans, a red and white top and a white tank top to go underneath, she pulled her out of it's monstrous ponytail and ran a brush through it a few times, before deeming it worthy of public appearance. From downstairs, she heard her mother's voice and grabbed a pair of heels form the closet before heading downstairs. The had enough of a heel to make a statement, but low enough hat she could stand to be in them for the remainder of the night. In the kitchen, Helga heard the garbage disposal going and sat on the steps to pull her shoes on.

"Helga, is that you?"

"Yeah, mom." she said, standing up and making her way into the kitchen. "What's up?" she asked, leaning on the counter. Gerald and Phoebe could stand her stalling for a few extra minutes.

"Oh, well you changed awfully quickly. Are you going out?" she asked, peering over her glasses.

"Kind of. Phoebe and Gerald wanted to know if I could go to a party with them." she said, not quite asking for permission.

"I thought you were trying out for Volleyball tomorrow…" she said, moving around the kitchen, probably attempting to assemble a quick dinner.

"You heard that?" Helga asked, standing up a little straighter.

"Well, that was _me _you were talking to this morning, wasn't it?" Miriam asked, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess, but I didn't think you were actually listening."

Of the few things Helga inherited from her mother, she could have sworn that she'd received the gene that effectively kept her from being able to multitask. If her thoughts were on one thing, it usually stayed that way, and generally took brute force for anything else to let itself in. Helga was overall impressed with her mother's ability to juggle several different things at one time; she'd been working at a consulting firm for the past 3 years, just after she was certain that Helga would not feel neglected by her busy scheduling. Helga assured her mother in middle school that she was busy enough herself, but her mother waited until she was at least in high school before starting any job full time. There were brief moments; forgotten recitals, ignored accomplishments, and the like, wherein Helga felt the small pang of neglect, but it was often short-lasting. The end result brought satisfaction to everyone; Helga was engrossed in sports (a different one each year, more or less), Miriam had work to keep her busy and happy, and Bob, per usual, was blissfully unaware of everything, except the fact that the two women he resided with were home a lot less.

"Well, are you still trying out?" Miriam asked.

"Yeah. I'll make sure we get out soon. In fact, I think it's just down the street, so I'll probably leave early, anyway." Helga said. Running a hand through her hair. Her hair was pretty dry, to her surprise, but it was rare that Helga was happy with her hair.

"Alright, make it home safe." Miriam said, waving Helga off. Bidding her mom goodbye, Helga walked out of the kitchen and into the parlor.

Exiting the house, Helga called out to Phoebe and Gerald. Reaching the car, Helga tapped on the window and waited until Phoebe rolled the window down. "Do you guys wanna walk there? What's-her-face's house is only a block or so over. It'd only take a few minutes."

"Sounds good." Phoebe said, getting out of the car and straightening her dark red blouse and jeans. Once Gerald was out of the car, the trio advanced down the street and made it to the location of the party within a few minutes. The frond yard of the house was surprisingly spotless, it was either too early for any damage to be done, a lack of serious party attendees, or people realized what kind of neighborhood the house was situated in, and had more respect for it. Gerald went inside first, greeted several people, while Helga and Phoebe waved and made small talk while heading towards nowhere in particular within the house. The inside was nicely, though not elaborately, decorated. Most breakable ornaments were probably stowed away, and larger furniture was pushed to the nearest wall and covered in clear plastic. Whoever the party-thrower was, they'd taken all the correct precautions. If more than half of Hillwood knew about the party (as Helga perceived from the difficult time she had making it down the hallway), there was sure to be a little destruction.

"I'm going to find the bathroom." Helga said to Phoebe, who hadn't followed her down the hallway. It was typical Helga to find the bathroom first thing, upon stepping into a party. Many dubbed it as paranoia, but Helga sometimes often better safe than sorry. The pale mark that the scar tissue left on her leg was a reminder of one of the times she was _not _safe. Thankfully, the stairs were less crowded than the rest of the house, and she found the empty bathroom within minutes.

* * *

Phoebe mingled downstairs, steering clear of the punch located in the kitchen and anyone who was drinking it and swaying in their steps. She stood next to a ridiculous sized fern and chatted with a girl from her Pre-Calculus class last year. The girl was pretty dull, but she was good conversation for the time being. Phoebe was standing directly up the hallway from the door, nodding her head in unison with the girl's talking, when the door opened, revealing two other party attendees, only one of whom Phoebe was actually expecting. Phoebe nervously tried to actually listen to the person standing in front of her, all the while demanding the attention of the newest person…or _people_, rather, to enter the room. Phoebe somehow was able to draw this person to her with her eyes, but not get the necessary answer when she wanted it. Against her own wishes, she decided to wait it out, knowing beforehand the consequences would be dire. For all of them. 

"Hey, Phoebe!"

Phoebe pretended to be shocked at the "sudden" appearance of the person standing directly a cross from her, and smiled and returned the greeting in reply. "Hey…Arnold. What…what's going on?" she asked, tilting her head towards the person standing silently behind him.

"Nothing much. Oh, this is Sophie. Sophie, this is Phoebe." Arnold said, motioning for Sophie to step forward.

"Sophie…hi." Phoebe replied, attempting to be polite as she discreetly sized the girl up. She was obviously pretty: long strawberry-blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a wide (…very wide) smile. She was no taller than Phoebe, and probably not much thinner. Setting aside the apparent bias that Phoebe held, she was overall not impressed.

"Hi!" she said in a high pitched voice. "I love your name, by the way. And not just because it rhymes with mine, either!' she said quickly, before bursting into spontaneous (and depending on how you look at it, frightening) laughter.

Phoebe contained the startled look that instinctively came to her face, and instead, nodded her head and reciprocated the eccentric smile. "Yeah…go figure." she replied. Her smile eventually faltered as she gazed at the nearby staircase. _'This is not going to be good.' _she thought, drifting away from the conversation.

"Did you hear me?" Arnold asked.

"Hmm? I'm sorry, I got…distracted." Phoebe said, looking back at Arnold.

"I wanted to know if you know where Helga was?"

"Oh…" Phoebe replied. Looking at Arnold, she could tell he was sincere; there was no way Sophie was there for any reason having to do with Helga. But of course, she knew better than to assume that Helga would have the same rationality of mind. Stealing a quick glance towards the stairs, she contemplated how to answer. "Helga is…" she began, wondering how best to answer _'In the kitchen? Moving to Argentina? Not here?_'_'_ she thought. "I think she went to find a bathroom." she finally said, smiling to herself. _'There. I told the truth, and now, there's barely any chance of him actually finding her._' she thought.

"Perfect, I'll go look upstairs…" he said, as Phoebe cursed to herself. She sighed, hoping he'd make the trip sans Sophie. _'Come on, Arnold. Alone. Say that you're going alone.' _Phoebe pleaded. However, her face fell at the next words from Arnold.

"Come on, Soph." he called. Sophie blinked at Phoebe once more before joining Arnold at the bottom of the stairs. "Thanks again, Phoebe." he said, before disappearing up the staircase.

Phoebe smiled in his direction and turned back towards the party. "Forgive him, Helga. For he knows not what he does."

* * *

Helga emerged from the bathroom minutes later, greeted with a short line of peers among the crowded throngs of people, obviously waiting to use the bathroom as well. She ignored their glares, and walked further down the hallway, in the opposite direction that she came. Walking aimlessly around the second floor, Helga contemplated how best to burn some time before informing Phoebe and Gerald that she would be leaving the party early. She had no intentions of staying for any extended amount of time, whether or not Arnold had agreed to meet them. An encounter with Arnold was, more or less, the last thing she wanted. Or at least, that's what she told herself. For the most part, she'd been on good terms with him throughout their senior year. They were able to occupy the same place, attend the same parties, engage in activities while in the presence of one another without any general hostility. Other dealings: school-sponsored sporting events, the occasional bite to eat after school, and, of course, the accompaniment on dates with their friends were different. Helga could not help but notice the attentions that she received when on these excursions as opposed to more public outings. She was somewhat reluctant to admit that when in the eye of the public, she was Arnold's _friend_. They hung out, knew things about each other, but were overall separate people with seemingly separate lives. When alone (or in the company of only Phoebe and Gerald), Helga could not deny that here was something more there. It was not a rare sight to see the two, following behind Gerald and Phoebe on the way to a restaurant or a movie, hand in hand. There was hardly, if any, reluctance on Arnold's part when offering her a ride home, a sweatshirt when it rained, or even the intermittent movie night when Gerald and Phoebe had other things to do. No, such expressions were common between the two. 

When they were _alone_.

Helga was beginning to find herself constantly on the short end of the stick regarding Arnold's affections. She often made the mistake of assuming things were one way, when they were apparently the other. The confusion upset her, for the most part. She wished that he would make up his mind, as to what _exactly _they were concerning each other. There was little surprise in the sight of Arnold escorting a female classmate around a dark, crowded and badly decorated gymnasium, or leaning against the locker of some high school beauty who happened to be able to sing in French, or take advanced organic chemistry or possess some other talent that was, more or less, completely useless. Helga was quite used to the feeling of pretending as though nothing happened between the two, and staying his friend. At times, however, she was entirely unsure what that meant at all.

Upon peering inside an empty bedroom, Helga withdrew her head and turned around, hoping not to see the host of the party catching her in the act of peeking into other people's rooms. What she saw, however was just a bit more frightening. Arnold was making his way up the narrow upstairs corridor, obviously latched onto someone else. Helga felt a spilt-second of euphoria, soon thereafter replaced by a pang of disappointment and embarrassment. The two (although she could not see who Arnold was dragging behind him, she was certain that they were there) hadn't seen her, and she desperately wanted to hide. Before she could turn back down the hall, reopen the bedroom door she'd just closed, and hide under the bed, her name was called from the mouth of the hallway. A string of curses flew from her mouth in a barely audible tone, before she turned quickly (figuring it was the best way to die, as she was sure she would do upon seeing Arnold) and smiled at the people coming towards her. Instead of responding to greeting right away, she figured it was best to feign the delusion that someone in the hallway called her name, and that she did not know who.

"Hi Helga." Arnold said, suddenly standing right in front of her.

Helga stepped back a little, partially out of the surprise of Arnold making it to the end of the hallway so quickly, and (more importantly) so that if her face decided to betray her, and go completely red in the face, she certainly didn't want him to notice. "Oh, hi." she said, trying to be as casual as possible, while planning the fastest route of escape. _'I could always try the window again…but we are on the second floor…' _she thought, purposefully backing away from the couple and distracting herself.

"Um, I wanted to introduce you to Sophie. Sophie, this is my friend, Helga." Arnold said, nudging the petite girl towards Helga by the small of her back. Helga noticed how the two lock gazes before "Sophie" honed in on her, and felt a flash of resentment course through her. She also could not help but notice the term "friend", used so loosely, she wondered if Arnold had even mentioned her while in the presence of this…_Sophie_. Hiding her instant disdain for the girl, she continued feigning a smile, for the sake of an early escape.

"Hi! Arnold tells me you're a dancer. Me too!" Sophie remarked, entirely too excited about meeting someone with a similar hobby. That, and her ability to split up the word "too" into two syllables, was beyond unnerving.

"Wow, that's great." Helga said, speaking as though pacifying a hyper-active five year-old. Which she sort of was, at the moment. Hoping for a long lull in the conversation and either for Arnold to get the picture and leave, or for Sophie to get distracted by the nearest shiny object, Helga kept silent, and avoided looking at either of them.

"Yeah…I tried out for Dance Company earlier this year, but it didn't work out. You must be _really _good to get in, huh?" Sophie asked, lowering her gaze, and looking back up at Helga, sheepishly. Any other fool on the planet would have taken the statement as a compliment and nothing more. Helga, however, had been placed in this ordeal before, and was all too aware of the true meaning behind the long, fluttering eyelashes before her. Helga peered down at the girl's feet. She was wearing pink beaded flip-flops. Aside from the absurdity of wearing flip-flops, in February, in Seattle, Helga noticed her perfectly manicured feet: all her toenails were the same length and painted identically in some obnoxious pink shimmer, and her feet were completely free of any scars, cuts or scrapes. Helga's philosophy was that you can tell a lot about a dancer by their feet. _'She wouldn't last 45 seconds with us.' _Helga thought, with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, I guess I am." Helga said, finally cracking a (nearly) genuine smile for the first time in the conversation. "Speaking of which, I've got to get going. Bye." she said, walking between the two, and back to the stairs. Her anger had definitely not cooled off, but she was feeling a little better about how smoothly she escaped her predicament. Before she'd made it down two steps, someone weaved through the apparent crowd, and latched onto her arm. Her first reaction was to look offended, but quickly wiped the face off. Turning around, however, she choose to stick with the "offended" look.

"What?" she asked Arnold, loosening his grip on her arm, until his hand fell limp to his side. The look on his face was shock, more than likely from her standoffishness towards him, which didn't bother her too much.

"Oh, sorry. I'll see you tomorrow, right?" he asked, looking slightly concerned.

"Maybe." she replied simply, turning and moving her peers to get down the stairs. Instead of leaving immediately, Helga searched the ground floor for Phoebe and tapped her shoulder to get her attention. The music downstairs was louder than upstairs, as the stereo system was located on the lower level of the house, so Helga was practically shouting when Phoebe turned around.

"I'm gonna head home, okay? Call me when you're leaving." she said, moving to avoid a collision with some obviously drunk party-goers.

"I'm sorry about-" Phoebe began.

"No, Pheebs, it's cool. It's not like you knew, right? And besides, he can do whatever he wants. Everybody wins." Helga said, smiling. Phoebe probably would have been convinced, but knowing Helga well enough, she was certain that the situation didn't end there. Helga was clearly disappointed; in Arnold for being indecisive, and generally dense, and also in herself, for expecting anything more.

"Alright. I'll call you tonight."

Helga flashed another closed-lipped smile and exited the party, greeting few as she left. Outside, it was barely any colder than it was upon she, Phoebe and Gerald's arrival, and as her home was not far away, she looked to cross the street immediately and make it a straight-shot home. Finding the nearest crosswalk, she started across the street, head down, at a moderate pace. The sight of the asphalt under her brightening made her snap her head up and to the left, as a dark-colored car slammed on it's brakes. Helga's intended to run further towards the other side of he street, and barely made it another step before the car stopped abruptly, tapping her hard enough that she lost her balance, but not so hard that she fell over. Steadying her footing, she slammed her fist on the hood of the car, getting the driver's attention. The driver stepped out of the car, and came around to where she was inspecting her upper leg where she'd been struck.

"I'm sorry, that was-" the driver began, the breath from under his hood coming out in small puffs of white air.

"Totally and completely your fault? Yeah, I noticed." she said, sharply, cutting him off. She peered down the front of his car, seeming to inspect the vehicle for damage, but with other motives in mind.

"Look is there anything at all I can do?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Her resolve almost broke upon hearing the sincerity in his voice, but she kept her face, if nothing else, hardened.

"MY7-45H" she said.

"Excuse me?" the driver replied, noticeably confused.

"Your license plate number. Expect a bill if I can't walk in the morning." Helga said, whirling around and finishing her trek across the street. By the time she was at her own corner, she heard a distant call of "Goodnight", and an engine starting. Rolling her eyes, she continued down the street to her house, unlocked the front door, and went inside. Locking the front door behind her, she noticed the house was silent, while the lights were still on. Assuming her parents had already gone off to bed, and walked around the first floor of the house, turning off lights. Because she was certain that she'd take a shower the next morning, Helga shed her clothes, and donned an oversized T-shirt and old gym shorts and quickly went through her nightly hygiene routine, reentered her darkened room and climbed into bed. Laying down, Helga tried to clam her thoughts and focus on the next days back-to-back events to occupy her mind. _'Tomorrow: running, classes, tryouts, rehearsal.' _she thought, closing her eyes. She smiled at the thought of a busy day before her. Busy days left very little time for thoughts about the situation between Arnold and herself. And even less time to actually talk him.

_'Tomorrow'_, she repeated out loud. _'The name of the game is avoidance.'

* * *

_


	3. Come On

Chapter Two: Come On

"I found your picture in my wallet  
Still got your sweater in my closet  
I'll bring 'em by, maybe tonight

And people asking how I'm doing  
But every question still has you in it.  
I say I'm fine,  
And I never think about you,  
But you're always on my mind."

-The Click Five

"I'm Getting Over You"

* * *

Helga sat quietly on the park bench, and caught her breath. She'd been running for the past half of an hour, and the tiny, white pedometer on her hip told her she only needed another quarter of a mile to reach her three-mile goal. She wasn't exhausted, as she told herself. It was too early in the morning to be exhausted, and she knew that she had a lot more things to do before the day was over. She purposefully packed her day tightly to avoid thinking about or talking to Arnold. She knew that the idea as a whole made her look petty, but she also knew that when she was busy, people (Arnold, in particular) stayed away from her. Helga on a mission was something he didn't generally like to mess with. Gazing downwards, Helga leaned over her outstretched legs to tie her shoe. Upon returning to her upright sitting position, she noticed someone further down the path coming towards her. After a few moments and her own observations, she pieced the person together and came up with one, fairly startling conclusion:

Arnold.

"Schiesse." She said, before lifting herself off of the bench and launching forward in a near sprint to the east entrance of the park, which opened up one block away from her house. She could hear his footsteps approaching and wished that she couldn't. She usually ran with some sort of music in her ears; it seemed to ward off shady people who were also running around the park in the early morning and kept her from looking at her pedometer every thirty seconds. Unfortunately, she'd left her MP3 player somewhere in the band room at school and forgot to retrieve it prior to yesterday's practice. If she had her MP3 player with her she could have at least pretended not to hear Arnold call her name from several feet behind her. He was getting closer, and Helga tried in vain to run faster, but her legs were tired and worn out and she was quickly loosing her breath again. She didn't want to push herself too far, remembering the day she had ahead and resumed her normal pace, Arnold eventually catching up. Looking forward, Helga focused her attention on the now visible entrance that she was waiting for and kept her face firm and her resolve unyielding.

She had already determined in her mind that she was not going to initiate any sort of conversation with Arnold, at least for that day. Before he could say anything or she could continue to ignore him, the miniature gadget on her hip let off a single beep; barely audible to anyone else, but certainly music to Helga's ears. Stopping to unclip the pedometer from her waistband, she smiled as she read that she reached her three-mile mark. Remembering her "audience" (seeing as Arnold had stopped along with her), she straightened up her face and resumed running. She avoided eye contact with Arnold, knowing it would come out as nothing more than an angry scowl, and passed his standing form. She heard a very slight sigh from Arnold and smiled before he caught up to her again. She was not completely prepared when his voice broke the silence between them.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, his tone denoting that he may have actually noticed that she wasn't her usual self. Helga nearly smiled at his late realization, but responded in a calm , aloof manner.

"Excuse you?" she replied, doing so without too much of an attitude, but knowing that despite how she said it, it would strike some kind of nerve in Arnold. From the corner of her eye, she could tell that he wasn't quite offended by her comment, so much as he was taken aback by the remote way in which she said it. He replied with a simple "Nothing" and Helga thought that'd be the end of their conversation. No such luck.

"You left the party early last night." he observed, and even if she were not upset with him, Helga had no way to answer him. It wasn't a question, so it didn't require an answer; it was a statement, and observation, and she had nothing at all to say.

"Mhm." she mumbled, nearly laughing at herself now. She didn't want to make him think she hated him completely, although she was pretty angry with him. Though she resolved not to initiate any conversation, she still wanted to know a little more about this "Sophie" person, and hoped that the conversation would eventually head in that direction. "So how was the party after I left?" she asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

"The usual", he replied quickly. "Nothing special, really. I'm not sure why I went at all." he finished.

Helga rolled her eyes. _'Are you sure it wasn't to show off your new girlfriend?' _she thought, frustrated.

"Sophie had a good time, though." he said, casually.

Helga nearly scowled at he mention of her name, but kept her composure. "What was up with your little girlfriend, anyway? Could she have been any more obvious?" Helga laughed at the addition of "little girlfriend". Helga knew that Sophie wasn't Arnold's girlfriend, but gave him the opportunity to confirm what she already knew.

"Sophie is _not _my girlfriend." Arnold said, and Helga let out and audible "Hmm" before he could continue. "She wanted to meet you, I guess. She's a dancer." he said, as if that was the solution to their "dilemma".

Helga was tempted to ask why Sophie would want to meet her, but she was under the impression that Arnold would simply surmise it back to the fact that hey were both dancers and their common interest was the sole reason in Sophie's wanting to meet her. Whether or not it was the truth, Helga felt there may have been more there than that, but didn't feel like tackling that issue right then.

"Uh huh, right. Since when do you pimp for Dance Company, anyway?" Helga said, letting her guard down slowly and allowing herself to laugh momentarily.

"I was not pimping. I don't know why she thought you had some kind of control over who gets into Dance Company-"

"I do." Helga said, simply. Arnold asked her what she meant before she was able to continue. "I said I do. I do have some control over who gets in Dance Company. I'm one of the senior officers."

"Oh." he said, still slightly confused, she could tell, but understanding the situation overall. "So why say no to Sophie? She tells me she's got experience and-"

Helga was frustrated now. Why was he so bent on getting this flighty, little slip of a girl into Company? What was he going to get if she got in? Cutting him off she began, "To be honest, I don't think she's good enough. There are days when I don't even think _I'm_ good enough." By this time, she had slowed down and came to a complete stop in from of the East entrance to the park. "But we're the best. And we work hard, without shortcuts. End of story." she said, looking from Arnold to the opening in the wall of the park. She'd completely forgotten about 'ignoring' Arnold, and had inadvertently shown too much of herself to him. Shaking off her demeanor, she bid him goodbye and left the park, and him, without looking back. She sprinted around the corner and all the way home, and collapsed on her porch, hoping she hadn't said to much, but still praying that she had said enough.

* * *

The day was not looking good so far. The morning was painfully awkward. The mid-morning was slow and boring. The early afternoon was proving to be nothing more than an extension of the beginning of the day; effectively combining tedious work with ridiculous hours. For her first day as English Aide, Helga was employed with the task of grading papers under the direction of one of the school's strictest English teacher Ms. Keatts. She was not so much a "strict" teacher as she was one who didn't take laziness very well. She made no excuses for students, unless truly necessary, and actually respected the students who took their education, and most importantly, the English language, seriously. Helga didn't have a problem working under her, but her day had not gone as she planned and grading 126 tests meticulously was not doing anything for her mood. 

She sat quietly, hutched over a desk in an empty classroom, circling and correcting a stack of papers with a red marker. She'd just finished a nearly perfect test when a knock reverberated from the door of the classroom. Without breaking her concentration, Helga remained focused on the newest test and spoke. "Ms. Keatts is out, I can take a message for her."

"I actually need to speak with a Helga Pataki. I think it's Keatts' aide."

Helga looked up, her focus clearly broken. "I'm not an 'it', I'm a 'she', and what do you need?" she asked, getting to the point. The person at the door was so stunned by her bluntness, that she almost felt bad for releasing it on him without any warning. Looking up, she tried not to pick apart the person moving towards her, seeing as she had probably just frightened him with her rudeness.

"Sorry," he began, apologizing with such humility, that Helga felt embarrassed. "You left this in a practice room. Green gave me your name." he said, referring to the band and orchestra teacher by his last name only. He reached in the pocket of his pants and pulled out Helga's MP3 player, and held it out to her.

"Oh, thanks." Helga said, taking the small device from him and trying to forget the feeling of his palms against the tips of her fingers. She smiled at him to let him know that she meant peace, and he smiled in reply. "You didn't happen to…" Helga started, deciding to give up and drop the question before finishing.

"Listen to it? I may have sampled a few songs, but not many. You've got a nice collection there. Of music, I mean." he commented, nervously. Helga smiled again, noticing his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Rolling her eyes at herself, she attempted to form an intelligent response.

"Thanks. So, are you an Aide for Band?" she asked, grasping for conversation. She couldn't recognize him from anywhere in particular, but she'd been grading papers for well over an hour and the company was a welcomed distraction.

"No, I'm an English aide, like you. I have a free period so I spend it in the band room most of the time." he said, pulling a chair from under a nearby desk and planting it across the desk from Helga, and taking a seat, all the while keeping eye contact with Helga. Something about his brown eyes made her want to look away, but just knowing that he wasn't breaking his gaze made her want to maintain hers as well.

Before Helga could respond, the bell signaling the end of the second period. Gathering her things, Helga made an effort to continue the conversation despite the interruption. "So, when do you aide?" she asked, hoping that her question didn't come off as prodding.

"Right about…now. I'm here to relieve you, Helga Pataki," he said, standing and smiling, holding out his hand.

Taking it, Helga smiled back. "Well, thank you very much…" she trailed off, hoping to get some kind of name from him.

"Derek. Derek Bailey. Nice to meet you."

"Likewi-" Helga began, before noticing the newest addition to the classroom. Mrs. Keatts struggled over to her desk just a few feet from theirs and unloaded her arms on to the metal desk. With an exaggerated sigh, she turned towards Helga and Derek, smiling widely.

"I see that my two aides have met!" she noted, excited. She looked down swiftly at their hands and then back and forth between the two of them. "I'm sorry, dears, am I interrupting something?" she asked, fully knowing the implications of her words.

Helga was the first to catch on the to the teacher's expression and shot Derek an apologetic look, before snatching her hand away. She met his eyes after they separated, hoping he wouldn't be upset. Her reply came in the form of a smile and a casual hand combing through the thick, coffee-colored hair atop Derek's head.

"Helga was just letting me know what she had left to do." Derek said, confidently, addressing Ms. Keatts. Derek turned to her, attempting to put up an effective "act" for their supervisor. "You were grading tests, right?" he asked her, obviously knowing the answer beforehand.

"Yeah," Helga started, nodding her head at him then at Ms. Keatts. Snatching a piece of paper from the desk she'd just abandoned, she handed it to Derek. "Here's the answer sheet." she said.

After a plethora of thanks to both of her aides, Ms. Keatts shooed Helga off, urging her to get to her class before the next bell rang. Helga left the classroom, bidding Derek goodbye quickly, trying to ignore the brief elation she felt just moments ago. She was quickly removed from any delusions by the petite, yet commanding individual in front of her.

"What's up with you?" she asked, leaning forward and furrowing her brow at Helga.

"Nothing, what do you want?" Helga asked, backing up, and motioning around Lila. Not one to be easily ignored, Lila turned and followed her down the hallway. Helga had no real problems with Lila. Their personalities differed, of course, but they had few problems with one another. And Helga had no reason to distrust Lila. She'd never personally attacked or manipulated her, in particular. Lila was one of those girls, that you can't help but watch from afar; she kept her hair longer than most, but still shorter than Helga's; centered around her back. She was short,; a mere 5'1", but knew how to use that to her advantage. People who did not know her were amazed at her ability to capture the attention of almost anyone instantaneously. Everything she wore, did, said, seemed preplanned; things rarely caught her off guard and when they did, she was able to counter it well. This was one of the reasons Helga tolerated her (that and the fact that they were both in Dance Company, thus spending several hours together weekly); she could (almost) relate to her.

"Well, I just wanted you to know that rehearsal today is cancelled. Rosso's out and everyone's playing hookey today, so don't worry about it."

Helga smiled wider and sighed. She'd purposely filled her day with as many activities as she could, but had to admit, that she'd have been drained by the end of the day if she actually had to perform all of them.

"Thanks Lye." Helga said, once again moving away from the petite girl.

"So, what's his name?" Lila asked, catching up with Helga quickly despite her short legs and large pink duffel bag. All the girls in Dance Company had chipped in last year for matching pink duffel bags.

"Whose name?" Helga asked, slightly confused.

"The name of the guy who put that cheesy smile on your face." Lila said, smiling herself. "And please don't say Arnold. I was at Jessica's party last night; I totally saw the whole thing." she said, waving one hand in the air. Helga doubted that Lila actually saw the "whole thing"; if anything she probably saw Helga walk away and watched Arnold return to the open and willing arms of 'Sophie'.

"No, it's not Arnold." Helga stated, saying his name out loud for the first time that day. "It's nobody. I'm just happy that I have one less thing to worry about today. Maybe I'll be able to focus better for Volleyball tryouts." she said, hopefully.

"If you say so, Helga." Lila said sweetly before turning down a corridor, and leaving Helga alone in the hallway. Her day was finally going as she wanted it to.

Helga was beaming.

* * *

Helga was boiling. She couldn't be more upset if she tried. She was currently halfway through tryouts, and she was seriously doubting that she'd make the team this year. She'd been called on every seemingly minor mistake that she made, and was close to giving up most of the time. She was aware that her offences mounted up to several yellow cards, and that if they were in a real game, she'd have been disqualified long ago, but seeing as they were just tryouts, Coach Johnston decided against it. In addition to not counting fouls against those trying out, Helga noticed, she wasn't planning on calling _any _fouls on players that were already on the team. It was blatant favoritism to Helga and she settled with fuming silently in her head and possibly giving the other players a piece of her mind after the mock game. Rolling her neck, she clutched the ball and attempted to suppress her anger. 

"Six serving thirteen!" she called, launching the ball a few feet in the air and open-hand smacking it across the gymnasium. The ball grazed the net and was immediately caught by the opposing team.

"Ms. J, that's a foul." the girl said arrogantly, flipping her auburn ponytail and meeting Helga's eye with a smirk.

"What foul?!" Helga asked, approaching the net as Ms. Johnston walked towards the girls. If she knew that she'd do so badly, she reasoned, she would have opted for going to dance practice instead of skipping.

"At the time of the serve, the ball cannot come in contact with the net. Not to mention you definitely weren't in your correct position as server. Read up, Pataki." the same girl said. She was obviously on Varsity Volleyball, and wasn't set on letting anybody new join the ranks.

"Sure, if you're playing with old rules! That rule was changed seven years ago. And that rule about serving position is ancient." Helga said, addressing the girl in response. Looking to Ms. Johnston for some kind of reassurance, she was met with a stone cold expression from under her white baseball cap.

"Serve it again, Number 6." she said bluntly, addressing Helga by the number she was given before tryouts began, and retreating back to her seat on the bleachers. There were a few spectators watching tryouts, some because they had nothing better to do, some were guys who only there because of the form-fitting shorts and shirt that each girl was required to wear during tryouts. Still others came to actually cheer on their friends, siblings or girlfriends, only to be met with Coach Johnston's impeccable need for silence during tryouts. The crowd went unnoticed as Helga waged war within herself.

Helga would have stomped out then and there; her pride was at stake, and she found herself between a rock and a hard place. She could stay at the tryouts, have her pride crushed completely and probably not make the team, or leave, abandon pride altogether and definitely not make the team. Catching the ball thrown somewhat mercilessly, she gripped it tightly, and resumed her place behind the other girls. The lights flickered a split second before Helga went to serve it and some girls already began to murmur among themselves.

"Alright, here's the deal, ladies. Next score wins. The list will be posted in half an hour, so there's still a chance to get a spot." she said, hushing the small crowd.

"Zero serving zero…" Helga shouted, opting for a top spin serve and snapping her wrist. The ball traveled flawlessly over the net and was bumped between the other players before coming back. The volley lasted for at least three minutes, and each girl was pushing herself to keep the fluid motion of the ball going as long as possible. The last bump from the opposing side was headed towards the center of the court, right where none of the girls that Helga was teamed up with would be able to get to in time. Tracking the position and path of the ball, Helga dove to the weathered linoleum flooring, feeling a burn across her forearm and closing her eyes as she slid across the floor. Clasping her hands together, she bent her arms at her elbows and hoped that she at least made contact with the ball; setting it up for someone else to bump over the net. Before she could push herself up of the floor, something fell within inches of her outstretched arms, confirming her fears.

The ball.

The opposition gathered and cheered on their win. Helga tried to reason with herself that they would have lost anyway, but that thought did little to comfort her. Taking a few moments to gain her footing and stand up straight, Helga retreated to the door, where she'd left her bags and change of clothes. She waited until all of the girls from the winning team left the area, congratulating them on their way out, before making her way to Ms. Johnston, requesting a moment of her time.

"Ms. Johnston?" Helga said, shuffling her feet and looking away.

"Yes, Ms. Pataki?" she said, turning towards her. Ms. Johnston was much younger than she usually looked. The light brown hair was almost always pulled back from her face and beneath a baseball cap, embroidered with the school's name. Helga never noticed until then that most of her clothes had the school's name or seal on it; from her navy blue polo to her long khaki shorts that came up just above her knees.

"I just wanted to apologize for my outburst. You're the coach, and I shouldn't have overstepped your decision."

"Ya know, Pataki," she started, turning back around and flipping through the papers attached to her clipboard. "You have enormous potential. Granted, your attitude could use some work, but you definitely have talent. Don't forget to check out that list." she said, leaving Helga alone in the gymnasium. Turning around to sulk and head home, she was startled to find that she was not alone in the gym. Covering half of her face with her right hand and balancing the long, pink duffel bag with the other, she addressed him, while ambling towards the door.

"Do you always attend the tryouts of people you barely know?" she asked, immediately realizing the stupidity f her words. For all she knew, Derek could have had a girlfriend on the team or trying out. There was the distinct possibility that he was not, under any circumstances, there to see _her_.

"Sometimes." he joked, standing up. Helga hadn't notice before, but Derek was significantly taller than her. In her mind, she'd have listed it as a trait she usually found attractive, except she was trying to keep her mind from wandering into such territory. "I actually wanted to ask you about this." he said, looking down nervously and pulling a pair of stapled papers from behind his back. Helga noticed it right away as one of the tests she was grading earlier in the day. Stepping forward, she eyed the test and asked what was wrong.

"It's nothing huge. I was just wondering what you meant by this." he said, leaning in and pointing to a small, circled question mark a the end of the test.

"Oh." Helga said, leaning away and smiling. "You ended your sentence with a preposition. I wasn't sure how strict Keatts is with all of that, so I didn't mark it against you."

Derek smiled as Helga surveyed the paper, making sure that she really did mark his answers accordingly. Meeting his eyes again, she contemplated the silence between them and surmised that it sprang from their close proximity. Stepping backwards, Helga broke her gaze, and shifted her bag on her shoulder.

"Well, thanks. I'll be sure never to end my sentences with any more prepositions."

Helga at once realized her appearance and wished for an easy exit. Her hair, by now was stringy and falling out of it's sagging ponytail. Her forehead was covered in a thin film of sweat and the minimal makeup that she did wear has, more than likely, running down her face. "Well…it was nice meeting you…again." she said, anxiously wringing her hands from the cold of the hallway. She hoped it wasn't too chilly outside; the walk home would only be that much harder if she had any inclement weather to deal with. Her concerns were met with a rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning from the other side of a nearby window. 'Fantastic', Helga thought, her shoulders slumping in disappointment and dread.

Derek noticed her change in stance; from her carefree joking manner, to nervousness to trepidation at the weather. He smiled at her ability to change moods so quickly, and do so without fully noticing it. He was tempted to inquire more of her, but at the risk of not seeming overly eager, he restrained himself as far as he knew how. "I know this may sound…creepy, but you wouldn't need a ride him, would you?" he asked, gripping the back of his neck.

Helga was suddenly filled with indecisiveness. She had valid reason to fear someone she did not know intimately, but not true foundation for fearing someone she almost knew, who hadn't done anything inconspicuous so far. Baring her most sincere smile, she shook her head. "It's okay, but I'm sure the last bus hasn't left yet. Thanks, though. " She said, walking backwards to the nearest door. It led to the very front of the school, where a bus was scheduled to come within the next ten minutes or so. "Thanks for the offer." she said, waiting for his own goodbye before disappearing behind the door.

Outside, Helga snatched a pair of navy blue sweat pants and slid them on over her black shorts. It was raining harder than she anticipated, and her frustrations at not having her car(even if just for another day) grew. Spotting the bus coming just up the street, Helga grabbed her bag, and began running towards the curb. She noticed, however, from the speed of the bus, that the driver had no intentions of stopping for her.

Turning quickly and running through the teeming rain, Helga sprinted around the school building and across the softball field. The red-brown mud that covered the field soon adorned her sweat pants from the knee down as she continued to run. Once across the field, she threw her bags over a fence, and leaped over into a grassy, muddy bank. When she stood, she found herself next to a busy road; cars rushing by at alarming speeds, but no sign of the bus she was looking for. To her immediate right, came the bus, and from what she could see, it was completely empty. Once the bus came to a stop, she ran up to the glass doors and began open-hand smacking the door. The octogenarian bus driver was not aware of her incessant pounding on his doors and if indeed he was aware he was doing a fine job pretending as though he was not.

Before Helga could respond, the stoplight turned green and the bus was off. Helga's only shield from the pounding rain (that had only gotten worse since she'd stepped outside) was a row of trees that lined the street. By that time, there was hardly an inch of her that was left dry, or for that matter, clean. She was about to turn back towards the school, either to call her parents for a ride, or begin her trek home. Despite the rush of cars going by, sounding their horns and screeching tires, one that was exceptionally close to Helga sounded it's horn and demanded her attention.

Turning slowly, Helga was greeted by a strikingly familiar dark car, pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The window rolled down slowly, and a smile grazed Helga face, not only at the person in the driver's seat, but at the thought of what she probably looked like, soaked and dirty on the side of the road.

"Still don't need a ride?" Derek asked, leaning towards the passenger side window and smiling genuinely at Helga. Helga smiled and tolled her eyes, picking up her bag and advanced towards the car.

* * *

Not sure if anyone can tell the changes I made (how she meets Derek, yadda, yadda, yadda…). Yeah, I like this version better. I have a really strange way of writing; for instance, this chapter was actually pieced together from four different Word Documents. If I have separate scene or idea, or even a different way of writing the chapter altogether, I just open a new document and start over. If I don't use a part right away, I save it over for a later chapter. It actually helps. So does reading every bit of my chapter (because it may take days to write a single chapter) before picking up where I left off so as to avoid any mistakes.

Am I the only one who loves the new Derek? I hope I'm not, because I do. He's not quite as cocky as the old Derek, and he's a bit more shy. And he has a new last name (same initials, though…)!! Not to mention, I try to (especially with original characters) try to find a picture online that is similar to how I picture them in my head. Anyway, I found the perfect Derek photo…oh geez, he's gorgeous. I'm a little proud of myself.

What else? The next chapter will be up in no time flat. Because this chapter was supposed to be what I wrote originally, but I thought it was moving too fast, and after my test today at college, I just sat and wrote, so it's going to be up not too long after. It'll be a bit more Arnold-centric; getting to know what's going on in his little mind. Not to mention one or two friends tell him what's what. Just a warning: it'll be a bit short. I don't mind, because I hate dragging things out for the sake of having a "long" chapter, but I know it irks some people. Whatever.

Again, thanks for reading.

-PointyObjects


	4. Let's Make Up A Dance

**Chapter 2: Let's Make Up A Dance**

Arnold blinked hard once before downing the last of his herbal protein shake. Grandma was in the habit of making them every night, knowing Arnold had some kind of early morning workout routine, and Arnold almost always got an earful if he didn't take them. He wasn't entirely sure what went into his grandmother's protein shakes, but they helped, in one way or another. Tossing the otherwise empty glass into the kitchen sink, Arnold laced up his sneakers before heading to the front door. His plan was to run to the park, go a round once or twice, come home and get ready for school. He'd given himself at least an hour to do all of the above, knowing beforehand that he didn't need a lot of time to get ready for school. The new semester was beginning today, and he was certain that any lateness he may have would be excused.

He started off jogging slowly, picking up speed as he went along. It was early morning, and definitely chilly, considering his attire. The white T-shirt was large, and the navy- blue shorts barely grazed his knees, but for the sake of not being too weighed down, he didn't dress heavily. By moving quickly enough, he was able to keep his body warm, and by the time he reached the park, located a few blocks away, he'd worked up a minor, but noticeable sweat. The empty park gave him an opportunity to think about he previous night.

Nothing of any worth happened between himself and Sophie, as he expected. She'd been more flirtatious than he may have usually gone for, but she was cute, and they had good conversations. Well…_one _good conversation. He was talking to her about a paper he was writing about The Jazz Age, and she was…nodding. A lot.

'Okay', he reasoned. 'Not _all _girls are amazing conversationalists.' he thought turning the corner. He was definitely _physically _attracted to Sophie. She didn't have a lot goin on upstairs, but she was pretty, and from the way she held onto his thigh for the duration of him dropping her of at her house, she was just as, if not more so, attracted to him. Nevertheless, he had no intentions of going any further with her than he did with any other girl he'd briefly "dated" over the school year. He was hardly a player, but the attention from girls was not something he was in short supply of.

Before he could ponder the "Sophie Situation" any further, he arrived at the near empty park, and turned to the left to pick up his speed. He worked on pushing himself as far as he could; high school baseball was one of the sports that didn't do much running in regards to training it's players. Nearly every other sport incorporated sprints and laps around the football field in their training, but he was somewhat thankful that he was engaged in a sport that didn't lax in actually training him, but still kept him in peak physical condition.

He paid little attention to his surroundings, and the few people inhabiting the park, until he noticed a lone figure sitting on a bench not too far up on his path. Said person was sitting on the bench, hunched over completely, either inspecting something on the ground or tying a lace. For a moment, he thought that he had been spotted, but the person merely stood and began jogging away from him. It was then, that he was able to piece the components of this person together to form a whole being. The long blonde ponytail, long strides, overly silent demeanor. Before he was conscious of it, he called out a name, nearly certain that he was addressing the person he was meaning to.

"Hey Helga!" he called to the retreating blonde. Confusion momentarily overtook him; he could have sworn that he saw her speed up in her jog. Pushing himself further, and knowing it would only result in a more extensive exhaustion, he struggled to catch up with Helga. She'd been known for her overall dedication in all things except one: sports. She bounced from one extracurricular sport to another, returning only if she found the sport itself fun and more rewarding than the last. Since the ninth grade, she'd participated in nearly every girl's sport (and apparently, tried out for wrestling, but that was more than likely a rumor) in the their school, and made the team 90 percent of the time. She was noted as being a "natural born athlete with a natural lack of commitment". Last year's sport was track, and although she excelled at it, there was little chance she'd be returning.

As Arnold closed the gap between Helga and himself, he reflected back on the past few weeks. As reserved as Helga generally kept herself in regards to other people, he couldn't help but feel she was being unusually aloof towards him. They spoke less than often, and when they did, Helga would sometimes get a far-away look on her face; as if she were thinking incredibly deeply about something without really wanting anyone to know what it was. When they were at school, she would sometimes stare at him with a strange look on her face that would disappear instantly. Almost as if she were waiting on something from him and upon not finding it, would find something to immediately distract herself. He meant, on several occasions, to ask if she was alright, or better yet, if _they _were alright, (whatever _they _happened to be at the time) but he never did. For some reason, he felt that he would either get no answer at all, or one that would only serve to confuse him further.

When he was within an arms reach of her, Arnold straightened out his face and ran beside her instead of breaking her concentration and potentially throwing her off. From a few feet behind, however, he could already tell that is was indeed Helga he was pretty much chasing. She wore a pair of black sweat pants, and an oversized dance T-shirt with cut-off sleeves. Her attire paired with her stern face and mostly unchanging silhouette, confirmed her identity. Even as he ran alongside her, her face stayed rigid, as if he weren't even there.

She didn't speed up at his sudden presence, nor did she look at him, choosing to ignore him altogether. 'Either that,' Arnold surmised. 'Or she's got a one track mind.'

Without warning, Helga stopped, looked down, and pulled something small and white from off of the waistband of her sweatpants. She pushed a button on the small device, mumbled something to herself, and resumed jogging. Arnold, still standing a few feet ahead of her, assumed that she would jog to where he was and attempt to reinitiate their conversation, or lack thereof. Instead she jogged past him, as if he weren't here, much like she did before, only looking slightly more content. Somewhat begrudgingly, Arnold jogged up to her again, more determined than before to find out what exactly was wrong with her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, taking on less of a 'concerned older brother' tone and more of a 'slightly peeved, a little more than friends' tone. Even as they turned at the arch in the sidewalk, he kept his gaze on her.

"Excuse you?" she asked, nonchalantly, glancing at him only for a moment, before checking her watch and focusing her attention back on the path.

If not for the momentum Arnold built up, he would have stopped right then and there in shock. Helga's statement was barely out of the ordinary; if ever someone had a problem with her, she would calmly ask them to either repeat themselves or clarify using the aforementioned assertion. She surmised, that if ever anyone had a bone to pick wither, they had better do it properly or drop the matter altogether. What surprised Arnold was not what she said, but more so how she said it. She didn't appear to be extraordinarily angry with him, and he couldn't think of a reason as to why she would have been, even if she had something to be upset about.

"Nothing." he replied, attempting the same aloofness that Helga was seemingly born with, and falling short. "You left the party early last night." he said, somewhat randomly, grasping for conversation of any kind and hoping to avoid an argument.

"Mhm." she replied to his observation. Arnold was almost under the impulse to roll his eye and jog away from her, before he realized that he was probably not on good terms with Helga at the moment, and running away from her would do nothing to remedy the situation. Also, he was pretty tired already and didn't have to stamina to jog ahead of her and stay there long enough to let his frustrations become known.

Directing his eyes momentarily from Helga, Arnold was taken aback when Helga actually spoke.

"So, how was the party after I left?" she asked, still not looking at him, and trying to show minimal interest as she spoke.

Arnold cracked a smile and answered. "The usual…nothing special, really. I'm not sure why I went at all." Arnold wasn't sure why he added that last part at the end. It was almost as if Helga knew why he was really there. As if she saw through his unimportant façade and thought differently of him because of it. The truth was that he knew exactly why he was there. He had thoughts of attending prior to meeting Sophie, but she was he initial reason. The two met not long before the party, and upon recognizing Arnold as a "close" friend of Helga's, Sophie asked for an introduction. She went on about all of her experience in dance, and how she didn't understand why she didn't get accepted into Company. Arnold agreed, hoping Helga wouldn't be too turned off by the girl. He had a feeling he was wrong on that account. "Sophie had a good time, though." he added, hoping not to strike a wrong chord with Helga, as if he hadn't already.

"What was up with your little girlfriend, anyway? Could she have been any more obvious?" Helga asked, curling her lip, but still reflecting a small smile on her face.

"Sophie's _not _my girlfriend," Arnold pointed out, nearly missing the apathetic "hmm" that came from Helga, before he went on. "She wanted to meet you, I guess. She's a dancer."

"Uh huh, right. Since when do you pimp for Dance Company, anyway?" Helga asked, her slight laughter making her sound almost breathless. Arnold knew better than to take this as a sign to slow down, and kept his pace steady as he replied.

"I was not pimping. I don't know why she thought you had some kind of control over who gets into Dance Company-"

"I do." she stated simply.

"What?" he asked, not quite hearing her.

"I said I do. I do have some control over who gets in Dance Company. I'm one of the senior officers." she said, not taking the opportunity to gloat.

"Oh." he said, never realizing the way Dance Company actually worked. He would have assumed Helga would hold a leadership position, but seeing as she never spoke about it, he didn't have much to go on. "So why say no to Sophie? She tells me she's got experience and-"

"To be honest," Helga began, slowing down and finally coming to a halt in front of the east entrance to the park. "I don't think she's good enough. There are days when I don't even think _I'm_ good enough." she said breathlessly, finally looking him in the eye for the first time that morning. Before Arnold could ask what she meant, she continued. "But we're the best. And we work hard, without shortcuts. End of story." Helga looked to the park entrance, and rolled her right shoulder in preparation to start running again. She met his eyes then, in an awkward fashion; almost as if she realized who she was talking and in what manner and instantly fell back into a state of detachment. "Bye." she said, before taking off again towards her home, leaving Arnold alone and perplexed at the entrance to the park.

* * *

"Does Helga seem different to you?"

Gerald was considerably taken aback by the question. If anything he was expecting a question regarding the most recent Baltimore Ravens/ New York Jets game, or possibly a request for homework. Gerald was aware that Arnold "cared" for Helga in one way or the other; their closeness in the company of himself and Phoebe was evident to that. What caught him off guard was the abruptness of the question and the fact that Arnold asked him of Helga's current moods in a place as public as their high school cafeteria. The most "public" that he'd ever gotten in regards to any relationship between himself and Helga was a pair of conjoined hands between the two after a movie.

"I don't know. Why?" Gerald asked. He knew exactly why Arnold was asking him that question. Helga had finally begun truly giving Arnold the cold shoulder, the same attitude that he so subtly showed her when under the eye of their peers. 'About time', Gerald thought, finishing off his lunch. He did not want to take any sides, but could not help but think that Arnold was, for the most part, at least, at fault for the drift that was slowly separating himself from Helga.

"She was acting kind of strange this morning. I ran into her in the park while I was jogging, and she wasn't talking much." Arnold said, his tone bordering on dejection. Gerald almost began pitying his friends, but knew that the solution rested in the two of them resolving this on their own.

"Maybe you should just ask her." he replied, stating the obvious. He and Phoebe had several conversations about the situation between their estranged friends, and determined that peace would come when the two simply sat down and talked things out rationally and calmly. In light of the situation, both knew that the resolution would be anything but "calm" and "rational".

"I might." Arnold said, coming up from his mood instantaneously.

Gerald was shocked by this. Addressing Arnold in a serious manner, he said, "You _should_." Realizing the way his statement could have been taken, he took a deep breath and tried again. "What I'm saying is, when dealing with members of the fairer sex, a.k.a. "ladies", one must handle himself with the utmost caution and grace." Gerald explained, more jovial this time.

"Translation?" Arnold asked.

"Don't start the conversation off with 'What's up with you, lately?' She'll go on the defensive right away, and then you'll be right back to square one. Understand?" Gerald replied, clarifying himself.

"Yeah. Thanks Gerald." Arnold said, launching himself from the table and exiting the cafeteria.

Gerald shook his head at his retreating friend. "Dense as a rock, that boy…" he said, out loud, before turning to abandon the table and leave the cafeteria as well.

* * *

Arnold scanned the students weaving in and about in the hallway. He was either looking for Helga or someone who would know where on campus she was. He checked the English department; he was aware that she was not only an aide, but nearly obsessed with the English language and writing, and that would be a likely place to find her. Upon not finding her there, searched the halls of the school hoping to find her heading home at the end of the day. A flash of bright hair and a pink duffel bag immediately caught Arnold's attention, and he made his way towards her, calling her name to make his presence known. Arnold had to laugh at the repetition of the events in his day. Chasing girls seemed to b the theme of his day. When he reached her, she whirled around and widened her smile at the sight of Arnold.

"Arnold," she began, looking him up and down and drawing out his name. "What can I do for you, today?" she asked, sweetly.

Arnold had to smile at Lila. It was hard for him to believe that this was still the girl he'd been infatuated with in elementary school. She wasn't vastly different from the girl he knew so many years ago. Nothing drastic happened to her; her family did not magically fall into money, she was not abused or mistreated, she just grew up. "I was wondering if you knew where Helga was. I wasn't sure if you guys had practice today." he asked.

Lila took a deep breath and looked to be thinking hard. "No, practice was cancelled today." she said, momentarily leaving it at that, to gauge Arnold's reaction. Upon seeing the slight fall of his shoulders, she continued. "I did hear her mention something about Volleyball tryouts. She's probably still there."

Arnold broke his gaze with Lila, and thanked her. He'd have simply turned and left, had Lila not commanded his attention.

"Is everything alright with you and Helga?" Lila asked, serious and unexpected.

"Yeah," Arnold said, pacifying her for the time being. "I just needed to talk to her for a sec."

"Well, you guys are friends, so I'm sure you'll work it out." she said, nodding her head to the side. Arnold was tempted to ask Lila how she knew about any problems between himself and Helga, but by the time he looked back at her, she was advancing down the hallway, turning around only to send him one last message.

"And you might want to watch out for your girl, Arnold. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody snatched her up while you weren't looking."

Arnold reflected on Lila's last statement for a moment, only to shrug it off, and head towards the gymnasium. Upon arriving, he found an empty hallway and the door to the gym locked. He headed towards the doors to the front of the building, hoping that if she were waiting for a bus, or already on her way out, he'd be able to catch her before she left. He had somewhat of a plan mapped out in his mind of how to put an end to whatever slump he and Helga had found themselves in. He wanted to invite her over that night, and just to keep her from getting any suspicions, he'd have Phoebe and Gerald come over a little later (so that he'd have ample time to talk to Helga) and they'd watch a movie.

Upon not seeing her anywhere around the outside of the building, Arnold gripped the collar of his shirt and ran briskly through the pouring rain until he got to his car. Once inside the car, Arnold rubbed his hands together for warmth before starting it, and backing out of his parking space. Leaving the parking lot and looping around the school, Arnold drove cautiously in the rain, until getting to a red light. The rain pounded on the hood of the car and silenced anything outside of it. Turning on the heat within his car, Arnold glanced around the street, waiting for the light to turn green. In the lane to the far right, Arnold eyed a school bus, probably taking the last of the students home from school. As the bus surged forward, Arnold's lane stayed stagnate, an in place of the bus, he was greeted with a new picture.

By the side of the road, stood Helga, drenched from head to toe, clay-colored mud spattered on her clothes, clutching her signature pink duffel bag and back pack. Arnold signaled to get over into the lane nearest her, but traffic was heavily congested, and he couldn't an opening in the line. Stealing a glance at Helga, he saw her slump her shoulders in distress and defeat, and was suddenly struck with an idea. He couldn't get over to her; that much was obvious, but traffic was slow enough from her side that she could walk in front of and behind cars without getting hit. Rolling down his window, he opened his mouth to call her over, when a black car appeared between his eyeshot of Helga. The windows were dark and tinted, keeping him from seeing who was in the driver's seat. The silhouette leaned over, and got Helga's attention quickly. The look on her ace changed drastically and immediately; she stood now in the rain, smiling and laughing. She paused momentarily, then looked both ways, as if being watched, and walked up to the car, opened the door and slid in. The car, signaled to reenter the lane, and glided down the street effortlessly.

Arnold sat in his car, pondering the events of the past few seconds carefully, rationalizing the options in his mind. He was confused as to why Helga was standing by the side of the road in the rain, who she got a ride from. Not to mention the statements made by Gerald and Lila earlier in the day. It seemed as though everyone knew something concerning himself and Helga that he was completely oblivious to. He couldn't put his finger on it, and in any other situation, he'd have let things progress as usual, without any apprehension as to what may or may not happen. He reasoned however, that if it effected his relationship with one of his friends, Helga in particular, he had reason to worry.

The light finally turned green, and Arnold turned the corner, all the while fishing his phone out of his pocket. Once it was out, he dialed the number he'd memorized long ago.

'Come on, Helga, pick up…'

* * *

There's chapter three. Told you it'd be short. Not much to say in the way of Author's Note's. I think I've get the feeling I'll be getting sick soon, so I'll either be writing a lot, or not at all. Depends on how sick I am. That and all the other things going on, I may or may not update too speedily.

Many thanks for reading.

-PointyObjects


	5. And We'll Agree

**Chapter 4: And We'll Agree**

"_It's no wonder that we did it this way, _

_Kept looking forward on paths sideways, _

_It's everything that is connected and beautiful, _

_And now I know just where I stand."_

_Silversun Pickups_

_"Kissing Families"_

* * *

Shutting the door behind her and flipping the wet hood from off her head, Helga barely had time to put her things down before she felt the familiar vibration from her phone. Figuring that it was her parents calling from work, Helga fished the small grey phone from her bag and flipped it open, ignoring the caller ID and answering immediately. She felt the phone vibrating the entire way home, but for the sake of being a good passenger, she ignored it and decided to wait until she got home to call her parents back, if it was even them calling her at all. 

"Hello?" she asked, breathless and quickly.

"Helga?" Arnold asked, slightly frantic.

Helga took the opportunity to pull the phone from her face and curl her lip. She wasn't in the mood to talk to Arnold. "Yeah, it's me." she said, cordially as she knew how.

"Hi, it's Arnold. What's going on?" he asked her, attempting to pace his words.

Helga rolled her eyes and hoped that the conversation would not be pointless or end in a fight. Both were likely and inevitable if the exchange progressed as it began. "Umm, nothing right now." she said, before he proceeded to go on about something. Helga was preoccupied with try to keep the phone to her ear and getting herself out of the massive hoodie that was loaned to her. Making her way to the dryer, she attempted to figure out the drying directions, and listen half-heartedly to Arnold. Throwing the wet hoodie in along with some her own clothes, she turned the dryer on, adding the rumble of the machine as another distraction between herself and Arnold. She hadn't the foggiest idea about what he was talking about at that point, hoping that he'd repeat himself so she could catch up.

"So, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to?"

"Want to what?! More than two words this time please."

"Do…you…want…to…"

"Don't speak to me like I'm a child, Arnold." Helga interrupted. She was growing impatient, not to mention she was standing in her laundry room with little else than her underwear on. The t-shirt she wore to tryouts was slightly sweaty, but not wet enough to change out of just yet.

Helga figured that Arnold must have heard the dryness of her voice, because his next words seemed more cautious.

"Are you alright?"

_No_. "Yes." She lied.

"You seem distracted. Is something bothering you?" He asked.

"I just got in, ya know, and it's…raining." she said. "I'm alright. What were you saying?" "

"Oh, I was saying that Phoebe and Gerald are coming over tonight for movies and stuff. You're invited if you're feeling better by then." He said, attempting to remedy any damage he may have done.

Helga thought about the proposition. She didn't have anything else to do, and a night out would take her mind off of her abysmal performance during tryouts. However, she reasoned, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be with Arnold in the presence of Gerald and Phoebe, knowing she'd be invisible at school the next day. The thought of that alone made her want to stay home, but determining in her mind to keep her guard up, she sighed and spoke into the phone.

"What time should I be over?" she sighed, begrudgingly.

* * *

"So how was your day?" Arnold asked from the other side of the kitchen. The two waited until Arnold's grandparents left before engaging in any conversation; knowing beforehand that it'd be interrupted by a long-winded story or some unnecessary dietary advice. Helga smiled and conversed with them politely, and waved them both off as they ascended up the stairs. 

"It was fine." she said, tapping her fingers lightly on the countertop, wondering why Phoebe and Gerald were taking so long. Wasn't this supposed to be a group thing? "I tried out for Varsity Volleyball." she added.

"Yeah, Lila told me." he mentioned, watching her stagnate form, leaning upon the counter. "How'd it go?"

"Oh the usual…I stunk up the place." she smiled, gazing around the quaint little kitchen. Despite what was going on between herself and Arnold, Helga could not help but find respite in the comfort that his home brought her.

"I'm sure you did fine." Arnold assured her, taking a bowl of popcorn to the living room, and Helga following after. He sat on the couch and Helga found a seat on the same couch, but reclined on the other end. She sat back and looked at him; he talked in a way that made her think he had more to say.

"I wanted to have you over because I thought we should have an opportunity to talk."

Helga looked around the room, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place. "Okay." she said, sitting up, and hanging one leg over the side of the couch. "Shoot."

"I wanted to make sure everything was alright. You're my friend, Helga, and when I feel like you're upset, I get worried." he stated, looking her in the eye the entire time. "This morning, I felt like you just…weren't there. Like there was a different Helga I was jogging next to. I didn't like it."

Helga began feeling guilty at this point. She knew for certain that Arnold was not completely to blame for the slow deterioration of their friendship. Her part was as vital as his, and she knew exactly what role she played. She kept quiet; she rarely, if ever, told Arnold when she was upset, or lonely, or angry with him, and when she did, she was subtle and secluded about it. She made sure, especially after a summer filled mainly with rejection and private pain, that she would not let Arnold see her even the least bit upset. Above all, she would not let him see her upset over something that _he'd_ done, whether or not he meant to. In keeping her feelings of rejection a secret, she told no one, save for Phoebe, creating further problems between she and Arnold. He thought she was upset for reasons that had nothing to do with himself, and she simply let him.

Looking at him, Helga took a deep breath, and tried to put the words together in her head before uttering them. "You're right. I was upset today. And I am acting differently, mostly around you. I'm sorry if it upset you." she said. She was clearly apologizing for her coldness towards him that morning, but knowing that she wasn't going to reveal anything pivotal to him. She was alright with letting him get a glimpse into her thought processes, but as for letting him in entirely, she was certain that he wouldn't be getting into her head anytime soon.

"So everything is alright?" he asked, hope lacing his words.

Helga nodded her head, reassuringly. "Yeah. Everything is just fine." she waited until Arnold was complacent enough with her answer to look away, and shake her head slightly. She was momentarily removed from her thoughts when the doorbell rang, and Arnold stood and exited the room to answer the door. Helga leaned over the armrest of the chair to see Phoebe and Gerald entering and greeting Arnold. Getting up from the couch, Helga acknowledged Gerald briefly, before Phoebe excused Helga and herself into the abandoned kitchen.

"So?"

'This game is getting very annoying…' Helga thought before answering in stride. "So…"

"So what happened?" Phoebe asked.

"What happened with what?" Helga asked back, blankly.

"How did your little "chat" go?" Phoebe asked, emphasizing the word "chat".

"What chat?"

"The one you had with Arnold."

"When?"

"Just now!" Phoebe exclaimed, exasperated.

"Oh." Helga said, pausing. "We had a chat?"

Phoebe sighed, trying not to raise her voice. "Arnold invited Gerald and I over a half an hour after you, so that the two of you could have a "chat" and resolve whatever is going on. Understand?"

Helga furrowed her brow and tilted her head, taking in Phoebe's words. "Well, I didn't know we were supposed to have it all planned out, but the "chat" was alright." She said, simply. Phoebe was not satisfied. "There wasn't much to resolve really."

"Oh please, Helga. Pull that façade with Arnold, but I know you better than that." Phoebe said, smirking.

"Well, he confirmed that we're friends. _Just_ friends."

"And, you're okay with that?" Phoebe asked cautiously. The question could earn her either a tear-covered shoulder or a glare followed by the silent treatment. Seeing as Helga didn't look to be in an (visible) mental distress, Phoebe feared the latter.

"Yeah. I mean, at least now I know what to expect from our friendship. I can do what I want, and he can do what he wants. Everybody wins." Helga said, pasting on a smile so as to reassure her.

"I seem to remember similar words last night. Speaking of which, you didn't call me last night. What happened when you left the party?"

"Oh yeah, I kind of found the guy who hit me." Helga said, searching the room for a distraction.

"Go on..." Phoebe said, not lettng her get away so easily.

* * *

_"Thank you. For picking me up." she said, sitting stately in the car._

_"No problem." he said, driving forward and switching lanes. "Couldn't let you stand out in the rain like that." he joked, smiling and gripping the wheel. "Where do you live?" he asked._

_"Oh, turn at this next light." Helga said, sitting back on the seat, and inadvertently, her sopping wet clothes. She realized then that she was probably going to leave the seat of his car as wet as herself. She was thankful that the interior of his car was not leather; the smell of the material usually gave her a headache and the sight of it was sickening. In her opinion, there was nothing "masculine" about having the skins of a hundred dead cows in the interior of a car. However, she'd have, in this case preferred a leather seat since the damage from her wet clothes would have been minimal, or at least less severe than to the soft, cloth-like covering of her chair. "Sorry if I get your seat wet. Do you have a towel, or anything?" she asked, sheepishly._

_"It's no big deal." he said, simply, reaching back with his right hand and grasping for something in the back seat. "Here," he said, as something soft and grey landed in Helga's lap as the car came to a stop at another light. "You can still catch a cold in those clothes." he said, meeting her eyes and smiling._

_Helga smiled back, and opened the garment. It was completely grey, with white letters on the front, reading Hillwood Varsity Lacrosse. Helga turned it over, and noticed, in the same print, a large number 17, and the last name Bailey in the back. Slipping her arms through each armsaye and sleeve, she pulled it over her head and smoothed the front. She tried to ignore the scent emanating from the hooded sweatshirt; a mix of some intoxicating cologne and a smell that could only come from being worn. She had to admit, at least in her mind, that he smelled pretty good._

_"Thanks." she repeated, nearly at a loss for words altogether. She was warmer now, and contemplated starting a conversation. For a few moments, her only words were directions to her home through the winding streets and numerous stoplights. At her feet sat her bag, and inside was her phone that vibrated in place of a ring, signaling that someone was calling her. Helga disliked speaking on her phone when in the presence of people, let alone in the presence of someone she barely knew. She ignored it and focused on being a grateful and quiet passenger._

_"Are you always this quiet in the car?" Derek asked, laughing, and adjusting the heat so that the only vents turned on were directed at he and Helga's feet. Helga refrained from congratulating him for turning on the heat exactly as she liked it._

_Smiling back, Helga replied. "It's kind of hard to start a conversation with someone you've just met." It wasn't that Helga didn't want to talk to Derek, but the car was warm and quiet and if she had it her way, she'd be reclined and asleep. She settled for leaning her right arm one the armrest of the car door and taking deep breaths to stay awake._

_"Tired?" he asked, grinning in her direction._

_"Yeah, it's been a long day…" Helga said, sitting up and trying not to look so disinterested. Arching her back, she sat up completely and continued. "I probably could have done without the tryout, though."_

_"Hey, don't say that." Derek objected. "You did really well today. At tryouts, I mean."_

_"That's funny. I completely bombed that tryout." Helga said, her fingers tapping lightly on the door handle. "The lie, however, is much appreciated." she said. She was somewhat disappointed about not making the team._

_"You did fine. Most of the girls on your side hardly moved. You were all over the court." Derek said._

_"Haha, literally." she joked, pulling the right sleeve of the grey hoodie down to reveal the angry red burn that she earned from diving on the floor to get the ball. "But again, thanks for the lie." she said as the song on the stereo ended, and one that she could not recognize began to play._

_"Which way do I turn?" he asked, referring to the street they'd turned into, that ended with street that extended to the left and the right. Helga motioned to the right, and Derek turned accordingly. Bringing her hand down from in front of her, Helga noticed the small, baseball-sized dent on the hood of the car and the small amount of rainwater that was pooling in it. She was suddenly struck with a chill and a flashback of the night before. She was shocked that she didn't see it before. _

_Bringing up the subject cautiously, Helga asked, "What's your license plate number, by the way?"_

_Derek looked at her quizzically and asked why she wanted to know. "Planning on stalking me?" he asked, laughingly._

_"Not quite." she said. "It isn't by any chance…MY7-45H, is it?"_

_"How'd you know that?" he asked._

_Helga grimaced. She wasn't too eager to admit that she'd punched his car, even if he did accidentally hit her. "Um…you didn't happen to…kind of, hit anyone last night, did you?"_

_Derek reeled momentarily, taking in everything that she said. "That was you?" he asked, clearly shocked, before launching himself into a fit of laughter, hard enough that the car was nearly shaking. "You're kidding me, right?"_

_"I'm really sorry for punching your car. And yelling at you. And threatening to make you pay any medical bills the accident may have incurred."_

_Derek paused, pulling up a few houses from Helga's, and looked at her. "Do you always talk like you're reading from a dictionary?" he asked, jokingly._

_"I'm serious, Derek. I'm really sorry. That was-" she started before he interrupted._

_"Totally and completely your fault? Yeah, I noticed." he repeated back to her._

_Helga hung her mouth open, shocked that he not only remembered her exact words, but threw them back at her with as much fire as she had the night before. "Hey, I'm trying to apologize here." she said, taking his repetition as a joke and laughing it off. "But really, if you have to get the…dent paid for, I'd be happy to help." she said, humbly._

_"No worries, Helga." he said, using her name for the first time. "And I guess I should apologize for hitting you."_

_"It's fine; my hip is still in working order, so it's all good." she said, realizing that she'd run out of things to talk with him about. "So why were you staying after school today?"_

_"I had to work on something in the band room. Thought I'd drop by the gym before heading out. Good thing I did, I guess." he said._

_Helga smiled and nodded. Looking out of her window and realizing where they were, she turned back to Derek and smiled. "Oh, well…thanks for the ride, and…here." she said, moving the hooded sweatshirt up her torso and attempting to lift it over her shoulders._

_"Don't worry about it, you can give it back later."_

_If she wasn't blushing from the cold, being alone in a car with Derek, or his unfaltering gaze, she was now. Stuttering a 'Thank you', Helga slid out of the car and ran to her front door, her head low under the grey hood. Unlocking the door, she signaled that she was inside, and watched as Derek's car sped to the end of her street, and turned away._

* * *

"You got a ride home from someone you don't even know?!" Phoebe asked, shocked and somewhat upset. 

"I do know him. We're both English aides, and...stuff. He just happened to be in the same place that I was. He's hardly an acquiantance."

"And does Arnold know about this 'acquiantance'?" Phoebe asked.

"Why should he? It's nothing serious, and besides, why would I tell him at all? It's not like I'm cheating on him. You can't cheat on friends. Which is what we are. _Friends_." Helga stressed the word hoping that either an end to the conversation or a distraction would bring it to a conclusion. Said distraction came in the form of Gerald summoning the two girls from the kitchen into the living room.

"So ladies, what will it be, snakes or cannibals?"

"What?" Phoebe and Helga asked in unison from their places int he kitchen. Phoebe shot Helga a look that read "We'll-Finish-This-Later, and left the room, seating herself next to Gerald on the couch. Helga resumed her seat ont he long couch, once again on the opposite end from Arnold. Arnold only chuckled at Gerald, having seen the conversation coming.

"Which is scarier, snakes or cannibals?" Gerald asked, leaning upon a kitchen counter.

"Not this again…"

"Gerald, it is far too late for one of your crazy questions about things that no one cares about." Helga said, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl separating herself from Arnold on the couch. Helga glanced at the loveseat across from them where Phoebe and Gerald sat, snuggled close to one another, and laughing at the absurdity of his question. Helga was momentarily reminded of their excursions to Phoebe's house, where she and Arnold were likely to be found in a similar pose. Shaking the thought from her head, she convinced herself that if she were to truly be Arnold's "friend", such instances would have to end. Arnold's voice ended her daydream, and focused her attention to the opposite end of the couch.

"Well, cannibals are definitely scarier, but snakes are more of a realistic fear." Arnold stated.

"I agree." Phoebe said from Gerald's arms.

"Flesh-eating people it is!" Gerald said, pointing the remote control at the VCR above the outdated television and watched as the screen illuminated blue. Arnold removed himself from the couch fleetingly to turn off the lights. Sitting back down, Helga met his eyes for a few seconds, and smiled wide at him, before tearing her eyes away and focusing on the screen.

_'Just friends…'_ she thought, again struggling inwardly to keep her eyes and thoughts off of Arnold and reminding herself where she stood with him. _'…just friends.'_ she repeated.

* * *

I'm starting to enjoy my shorter chapters more than my longer ones. There's something about them; they're more endearing and I think it's easier to pick up on little clues. That, and I love switching from one character viewpoint to another. It was something I was messing around with in the beginning, and now I love it. 

I like this chapter because although the majority of "secondary" characters kind of side with Helga, they (mostly Phoebe, and Helga as well) know that it's not entirely Arnold's fault. I wanted a little blame to go to Helga, but not blatantly so. I think it came across well.

I'm working on my dialogue, because I know it's not very good. Also, I looked at my story (on the site) and something about it irks me a little. It kind of looks funny. I'll work on it. Bear with me, people. I'm making strides. Sort of.

-PointyO

P.S. Bittersweet Catastrophe will have a chapter soon. Endings aren't my forte, but, per usual, I'll do my best.


	6. To Call It

Chapter 5: To Call It

Arnold watched Helga stir from across the couch. He was amazed that she managed to stay on her side of the couch, not only for the majority of the movie, but even after she'd fallen asleep. He considered waking her up several times, when the movie had ended and when Phoebe and Gerald took their leave, but he decided to let her rest on her own. No need having her drive around exhausted. She was slowly waking herself up, and he was pretending not to see.

"What happened?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, and swinging her legs over the side of the couch. She glanced around the room before meeting Arnold's eyes.

"Phoebe had to head home. She said she'll call you later." he said, casually, still staring at the television. He was making an effort to distance himself from Helga verbally, as she had earlier in the evening. His attempts proved somewhat futile, as he found himself shooting awkward, sideways glances at her now moving form, until she crossed in front of his eyeshot. His eyes followed her out of the room, before he launched himself from the couch behind her.

"I guess I should get going too." she said, slipping her coat on and turning once she reached the door. She met Arnold's eyes with a meek, silent smile and turned awkwardly to gaze about at the inside of the house.

"Yeah, that's fine." he agreed, following her example and avoiding eye contact. "So, everything's alright?" he asked, quietly, hoping that he was not treading on any sensitive ground.

Helga's head snapped up quickly as she met Arnold's stare. "Yeah, of course." she said, attempting to ease the slight tension of the room with her voice. Offering a somewhat genuine smile, she assured him once more and took her leave. After she left, Arnold regretted that he had not addressed Helga on what he had seen that afternoon, but was also relieved that he did not. From his standpoint the could have been overreacting about the whole situation altogether, and bringing it up would have probably have widened the drift between himself and Helga. He pondered, while retiring to his room whether or not the issue was resolved at all, and when satiated with the fact that she'd confirmed it twice in one evening, he let the matter drift away and prepared for bed.

* * *

Helga stared at the stack of papers before her. Her current assignment found her grading the tests of a group of sophomores from and advanced English class. Expecting to find the task difficult (seeing as she was grading an "advanced" class), she was sorely disappointed when the papers were littered with simple spelling, grammatical and vocabulary mistakes. After a while, she stopped writing detailed comments on each test and settled for marking their answers wrong and placing their grade at the top. Even after an hour of grading, she still found herself with a considerable amount of work to be done. 

Glancing at the wall clock, she felt a twinge of disappointment wash over her; she knew that she should not have expected anyone to come by the English offices everyday, but the company was welcome. She generally had no qualms about spending a portion of her school day alone, but visitors (aside from the few that came to see the teachers) were few and far between.

The bell rang, releasing her from her duties, and after arranging the tests neatly on the desk in front of her, Helga left before someone could show up and assign her something else. After that, she found her day to flow in a relatively normal fashion. She arrived to all her classes on time, paid attention, and only caught herself looking expectantly at the door on a few separate occasions. She knew better than to expect anything profound from Derek, but against her better nature, she still hoped.

After school was dismissed, instead of filing out of the school like her classmates, Helga rushed to the girl's locker room and changed for practice. She was certain that everyone would have a heavy fine to pay for skipping the day before, but she was unconcerned with that for the time being. She changed quickly into the form-fitting white t-shirt with "Dance Company" monogrammed across the front, the flesh-colored tights that went down only to her mid-calf and the black spandex shorts that she personally felt were entirely too short for high school girls to be parading around in, and carried the remainder of her things up into the practice room. The door was kept unlocked after classes ended, and Helga pushed the heavy wooden door open to reveal the Dance Company's practice room.

Despite the cold weather outside, the sun's rays filtered in through the high windows and reflected off of the opposing wall, covered entirely with mirrors. The dance instructor's office sat on the opposite side of the room from the door and was never unlocked. The majority of the floor was made of a grey, plastic covering, that the girls affectionately deemed "The Floor". Resting her bags farthest from the door, she sat quietly, taking in the silence of the room and slipped on her dance paws. Removing a CD from her pink duffel bag, she made her way to the old CD player in the center of the room. She inserted the CD in the player, picked her track, and proceeded to retreat to the edge of the floor. She awaited the start of the music before beginning her fluid movements toward the center of the floor. Although she was just practicing, she took the routine seriously and refused to let anything break her concentration. She used the words and the music as her cues to move and found herself improvising more than usual. Her face remained stagnate at her reflection as the chorus approached, as she spun and came to a complete stop. Underestimating the turn, Helga lost her balance and wobbled on the floor, nearly falling, but regaining her posture again. Before she could begin again, she turned her head sharply towards the door where most of the Company stood. Some were waiting, impatience littering their faces, while others were simply watching, and still others were engrossed in their own concerns, and couldn't care less if Helga had a monkey out there dancing with her.

At the head of the group stood Leslie Robbins, hand on hip balancing an identical pink duffel bag and tapping her foot impatiently. Helga stared back at her and wiped her dry forehead, advancing towards Leslie, her stare unfaltering. Once they were close enough that Helga deemed threatening, she smile wide and spoke. "I'm sorry, did I run over time?" she asked, insincerely.

Leslie flipped her long, brown ponytail over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes a few times. "Alright girls, since you all decided to play hooky on me yesterday and now that Helga's taken up even more of our precious time, we're going to start practice off with a few laps. On the field. Now." she said, with clear authority. Leslie was a good three inches taller than anyone else in Company, Helga included, and was not shy about ruling over people. The fact of the matter was that she, Helga and Lila were all acting as captain of the Dance Company, as they were all graduating seniors. Leslie, however, commanded more attention, and usually got it through her more dictatorial ways.

Dismissing the girls to change out of heir dance shoes and into some decent running shoes (though she gave express orders for them to stay in their skimpy dance apparel as punishment), Leslie left Helga and the rest of the Company to groan over their fate and discuss proper ways to get back at her. Helga made conversation with a few other dancers while changing her own shoes, before Lila tugged at her arm, obviously eager about something.

"Helga, there's some guy downstairs who needs to talk to you." she said, both seriously and comical.

Helga curled her lip. "Please tell me it's not another parking ticket." she said, shuffling back over to the door. After she stepped into her tennis shoes and disappeared behind the door, Lila smiled to herself and her few companions.

"I doubt that."

Helga walked down the stairs slowly, thinking of ways to avoid getting yet another parking ticket from the school. '_I swear, officer, I didn't even see that sign.' _she said to herself, staring at her feet as she walked. Once she arrived at the bottom of the steps, she looked both ways down the corridor, only to find it empty. Before she could turn around and retreat back up the stairs, she heard her name from around a corner, and hoped that she was not he target of a practical joke.

"Hello?" she asked to the empty hallway, and was immediately greeted with her reply when Derek rounded the corner, quickly and silently. Helga's hand flew to her chest, and she'd have turned and ran if she didn't know who he was already.

His face suddenly read instant regret and he stepped closer to make sure she was alright. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?" he asked.

Helga calmed her breathing and smiled. "No, I'm fine. What's up?" she asked.

"Umm…" he began, avoiding her gaze for a minute, then looking at her very questioningly. "Well, if you're not busy right now, there's something I think you need to see." he said.

Letting any hesitations roll off her back, Helga took a last look at the stairs, hoping she wouldn't get extra laps for making a detour, and advanced to the door of the building. She found the weather outside to be pleasant, though still chilly in her current attire. She then noticed that she was pretty scantily clad in front of someone she hardly knew (but was growing to like) and attempted to cover herself, even though he was not looking at her. The pair made small talk as they made their way to their destination, across campus. Once they were inside another building, near the gymnasium, Helga recognized, she found her eyes covered by a pair of strong , heavy hands. There was no mystery as to whose they were; there was only the two of them roaming the hallways at the time, anyway.

Stopping immediately, Helga awaited some kind of explanation as to why she was abruptly blindfolded from behind. "Care to explain?" she asked, standing still in the middle of the empty hallway.

"It's a surprise. Keep walking." came Derek's voice from behind her. She could not help but be soothed by it, despite not being able to see his face. She obliged without complaint, walking forward and turning as he commanded her to from behind her. When he asked her to stop, Helga was unaware of where she was and was eager to remove his hands and find out what his surprise was.

"Are you ready?" he asked, causing her anticipation to grow. Her response was only to nod and move her hands to take his from over her eyes. He allowed her to do so, pulling his hands downwards from her face, and opening her eyes impatiently. She was met with the door to the gym, and through the glass pane she could see a two or three members of the volleyball team practicing. She nearly turned on her heel and punched Derek in the face for exacting upon her such a cruel reminder of her abysmal failure, but noticed the right door of the gym obstructing her view and inspected it. 'Icing on the cake,' she sighed, noticing it as the list for the Varsity Volleyball team as of yesterday. That time, she really did turn, and began to address Derek.

"Der-" she started.

"Look." he said, motioning with his hand for Helga to look closer at the list, which she did, somewhat begrudgingly. Her eyes ran down the list of names, stopping when she came to any that she recognized, especially the names of girls who were on the team already. Chalking it up to favoritism, she read on when she came to the third name from the bottom. Next to it was it's designated number, the number that each girl got at tryouts. She read the name again and again, making sure that she was not mistaken.

_Number 6.…………………H.G. Pataki_

She gaped at the paper, and then turned to stare open mouthed at Derek. Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled and offered her a meek 'Congratulations.'

On the contrary, Helga's shoulders fell in appreciation. She was moved that he not only felt the need to tell her, but did so in a considerate way. Before she could properly thank him for, more or less, forcing her to check the list, the doors of the gymnasium were shoved open, causing Helga and Derek to move aside quickly. Helga was greeted with the captain of the Varsity Volleyball team, who, even after at least a half hour of practice, still looked as though she'd never even heard of sweat.

"Pataki." she addressed Helga, seemingly coldly.

"Richards." Helga replied, in like manner.

Holding out her hand, civilly, she met Helga's eyes, and her features immediately softened. "Welcome to the team." she said, cracking a smile. Helga looked at her questioningly, wondering where the friendly demeanor was coming from. Just a day before, this was the same girl tat drove Helga insane with her need to abide by every rule ever thought up. "We're like that with all the rookies. Especially the ones we know are genuinely good."

"Thanks." Helga, before her teammate quickly glanced between Helga and Derek and left. The two were again alone in the hallway, both enjoying and dreading the awkwardness that the silence brought on. She was glad that he was the one to speak first, for fear of what she might say.

"So, I guess you'd want to get back to your practice then? He asked, almost dejectedly.

"No, my captain…co-captain, has us running laps, so we'll be out on the field today." she said, offering more information than necessary, but not feeling uncomfortable with it.

"Perfect. I'm on my way there now." he said, subtly asking Helga if he could escort her there. Helga nodded and the two began yet another walk, this time, not so far to the fields. "So," he began, stepping onto the wet grass with her. "Was I right, or was I right?"

"I'll admit, you called it." Helga said, attempting not to blush under his gaze. Looking forward, saw her team, most of which already halfway around the tracks. "Shall I bow to your superior intellect?" she joked.

"Actually, I was thinking-"

"Pataki! Four extra laps for being late! Starting now!" Leslie shouted from across the field. She, conveniently, was the only member of the team , aside from Helga, who was not currently running any laps.

Helga gazed over her shoulder lazily, appearing to pay Leslie very little mind, but knowing full well that she had more power than Helga wanted to mess with at the moment. Shrugging her shoulders, Helga turned back to Derek apologetically. "Sorry, duty calls. Looks like I'll _really _be running circles around you." Without any thought or hesitation, she added, "I'll talk to you after practice." Turning and jogging towards Leslie, Helga made little, if any effort to hide the smile and color that crept up her face.

"Okay, spill…" Lila gasped, catching up to Helga and breathing heavily.

Helga chuckled at the sight of Lila, red-faced and exhausted, barely keeping up with her. "I'd rather not, at least not all over the track field."

"I'm serious, Helga." Lila said, each word accompanied by a deep breath.

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, having an idea of what Lila wanted her to "spill" beforehand. Despite this, she had no problem making her work for the information and getting a laugh out of it in the process.

"That guy you were walking with. What's up with that?" she asked, the same old spark returning to her voice.

"What's up with what? He walked me to practice and the end." Helga said, hiding the excitement of meeting him after practice from Lila.

"Yeah, if you think I'm settling for that, you're wrong. Anyway, he's been, like, staring at you this whole time. Freakin' adorable." she said, turning the curve of the track only a few paces behind Helga. "But seriously, I think this guy has potential. Look at his eyes."

"How can you see them from here?" Helga asked, looking at him from across the field, only to be met with his gaze as he was taking a brief break from his own practice. Instead of waving, as she initially intended, Helga smiled cordially and resumed her normal pace.

"Ohh! I saw that!" Lila exclaimed, her exhaustion long since forgotten, especially after she'd gotten Helga to slow down a bit. "Anyway, I can just tell. He has very trusting eyes." she remarked, knowingly.

"Whatever."

"Hey, do you want me to talk to him for you?!" Lila asked excitedly.

"No. Don't you dare do anything of the sort." Helga warned. She was aware that Lila would not say anything embarrassing or foolish, at least not intentionally, but didn't want to take any chances.

"Okay, okay, don't get your leotard all in a twist. Either way, if he asks you out or something, don't say 'yes' right away."

"Why not?"

"Because, it adds to the suspense and when you finally do say yes, he'll be falling all over himself with excitement." Lila commented.

"So I should wait?" Helga asked, wondering why she was even considering taking any advice from Lila, especially regarding someone she was still getting to know herself.

"No, you moron, don't wait! But don't answer right away. Here, try this." Lila said, holding Helga by the shoulders and bringing her to a stop. Lila stood facing Helga for a moment before addressing her. "He's going to say something like, 'Hey, wanna grab a coffee sometime?' and instead of answering you're going to look up at the sky quizzically, tap your index finger on your chin, and _then_answer. Simple, no?" Lila reasoned.

"Quizzically. Big word for a big airhead." Helga joked, leaning on one hip. She actually found it somewhat difficult to focus on Lila, as Derek was practicing with his Lacrosse team directly behind Lila's head.

Lila playfully glared at Helga and began to jog away, slowly. "Listen to me, Helga. I know about these things." she called. Helga stood alone then; most of the girls had finished their laps long ago and retreated back tot eh Dance studio, and the few that remained on the track with her had a ways to go to catch up to where she was. Resting for a moment, Helga was about to scan the grassy area of the field for Derek, before a shrill, and surprisingly masculine voice bellowed from near the bleachers and called her name.

"Pataki! Quit standing around! Another lap!" Leslie cried, from her seated position.

Rolling her eyes, Helga began jogging again, looking forward to the end of practice, now for more reasons than one.

* * *

Yes, an awful ending, but hey, you're the one who went and read it. It's short, I'm aware of that, but I'm so over trying to write long chapters and in result, hating them. So the chapters are going to be short until I decide I have more to say. Also, sorry about the late update, I was pretty consistent for a while, but these past two months have been weird. If you check out my profile, you might understand why. That, and I've been reading some awesome new fiction both on this site and FictionPress. Anyway, I have some new fun things in the works; new stories, both original and fan fiction, so that's exciting. One of them is definitely original fiction (my first!) and the other is on the fence. I wrote it originally as HA! Fan fiction, but now that I look at it, it's a smidge OOC. I may post it as fan fiction and then a different version as original fiction.

Per usual, art imitates life.Well, only a little this time. I was constantly getting parking tickets in high school. I only paid one, because it was given by a real police officer and not the principal (for parking on the street of all things...haven't they got anything better to do?) but none of the ones from school ever got paid. I must have had at least 20 of them, which means I owe the school around 300 dollars. But that was a very, very long time ago (2006) and I'll get around to it one day. At my reunion or something.

I get the feeling I'm making Arnold kind of…weird. If he does seem weird, I have plans of him redeeming himself later on. In other words, he'll be coming back into character soon. See, I can admit when I'm doing stuff wrong.

Thanks for reading. Later days.

-PointyO

a.k.a.

Antoinette


	7. The Compromise

_"Wake me up low with a fever,  
Walking in a straight line.  
Set me on fire in the evening,  
Everything will be fine.  
Waking up strong in the morning,  
Walking in a straight line.  
Lately I'm a desperate believer…  
But walking in a straight line."_

_Silverchair_

_"Straight Lines"_

* * *

The Compromise

Chapter 7: The Compromise

Helga stretched her sore limbs, each muscle flaring up again, from the simple task of changing her clothes. The fact that she was changing her clothes in such a tight, damp space didn't do much in the way of helping her mood. She'd rather not have to talk to Derek smelling like the inside of a gym sock. Thinking on her impending meeting with Derek sent a strange feeling through Helga's gut. She wondered, among other things, what he was going to say prior to Leslie's abrupt interruption. Was he going to ask her out? Give her the estimate for the damage to his car? Warn her that she had a piece of toilet paper attached to her shoe? For the sake of her sanity, she hoped for the first. If he was going to ask her out, she wondered, how would she answer? He didn't seem like a shady character to her; decent enough as far as she could tell. Thinking back on her words from the night before, however, brought back the only reason why she would refuse him if that was his intention:

_"Why should he? It's nothing serious, and besides, why would I tell him at all? It's not like I'm cheating on him. You can't cheat on friends. Which is what we are. Friends."_

Her first thought was that even if she did decide to let Arnold know about any upcoming plans with Derek, that he should not have any problem with it. If anything, he should pat her on the back, and say "Go get 'em, girl!", in more or less the same way she'd encouraged him when he was clearly enamored with someone that was not her. On the other hand, if Arnold did have some objections to Derek, she could not be angry at him for his feelings. For, when she'd either encourage or ignore his attentions towards other girls, she was fully aware of the green-eyed monster that lurked within her, growing larger and larger over the summer and into the school year, where his behavior continued.

If Arnold _did _have anything similar to those feelings, she figured that they were only partially justified: the night before, the two of them agreed that they were _friends_. Prior to that night, and particularly, over the summer, neither of them were very sure of what they were; friends on occasion and when appropriate, but much, much more at other times. And there were the rare occasions, where they were aloof acquaintances; two people that knew each other, not intimately, but enough to introduce the other to new friends, which Arnold took advantage of quite often. Every new friend (most importantly, new female friends, all of whom just happened to be gorgeous and smart, and blah, blah, blah…) met Helga, with the customary greeting: "Hey Girl-Whose-Just-Perfect-For-Me-In-Every-Sense-Of-The-Word, meet my friend, Helga." followed by Helga smiling like the best buddy that she found herself to be, yet again, hiding the disdain she held for this girl, and Arnold. She had to admit, Arnold may have had some reason to be upset about Derek. That was, if she ever had some intention of telling him…

"Hey, earth to Helga…" Lauren said, waving her hand in front of Helga's face until she shook her head and looked up at her. "What were thinking about so hard? I called your name, like, four times."

Before Helga could smile and shrug her shoulders innocently, Lila answered from the other end of the locker room. "She's thinking of her new boyfriend." she said, eliciting a long "Ohh" from the rest of the Dance Company.

"No, I'm no-" she began, objecting.

"You have a boyfriend?! I didn't know you were dating anyone!" Lauren said, perching herself on the wooden bench next to Helga. Her ebony curls bounced against her face in excitement as she began assaulting Helga with questions.

"I'm not dating anyone." Helga said, dryly.

But Lila just-"

"Don't you know better than to believe anything Lila says?" Helga joked, patting Lauren's shoulder in mock-comfort. "Lila's been breathing in too many hairspray fumes, haven't you?" she said, directing her question to Lila herself, emerging from the bathroom portion of the locker room.

"Ha ha ha, how funny, Helga. But mark my words, this boy…I have a good feeling about him." she said, pulling on her shoes confidently. Helga noticed that although Lila was not the only one in Company to wear open-toed shoes, she was definitely the only one who wore high-heeled, open-toed shoes directly after practice. It was as though she had impenetrable, perfect, size seven feet. Nearly all of the girls, save for Helga, had no problem showing off their feet, despite any scars, calluses or bruises. Helga silently wished that she could be so confident in regards to her feet, that were, in her opinion, far too large and far to marred for anyone to see. The only people who had seen her feet without any protest from her were Phoebe and Arnold, the latter actually seeing them more often than the former. Shifting her attention from her feet to the gossip that Lila was attempting to spread around the girls, Helga cocked an eyebrow and replied.

"And how would you know all of this, if you've never even spoken to him?" she asked.

You see, girls," Lila said, addressing the rest of the locker room. "She openly admits that there's a guy. Come on, Helga, don't tell me you aren't excited about going out with him." Lila chided.

"I'm not going out with him!" Helga cried.

"But you want to; admit it."

Helga rolled her eyes, and pulled her hair from her face, tying it up in a tight ponytail. When she did not reply, Lila continued.

"You know, Helga, I wouldn't expect anything less of you. I mean, you dating someone like the QB or something would be too conventional. But think about it: Captain of the Varsity Lacrosse team...it's perfect for you!" she said, managing to keep her mouth moving while reapplying mascara.

After the choruses of "Yeah, that makes sense," and "I see your point, Lila," died down, Helga spoke up. "Um, in case you guys haven't noticed, I'm not dating anybody. I'm not even going on a date with him." 'Yet.' she said, to herself.

"Yet." Lila repeated, smirking in Helga's direction. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he's outside our locker room right now, waiting for you to come out. It's absolutely adorable…" she sighed, putting away her makeup bag.

Helga soon found herself fully dressed, with no further reason to stay in the locker room or endure anymore fruitless interrogations. "As much as I'd love to continue this exchange of stimulating conversation with all of you, I really must be going." Helga said, swinging her bag over her shoulder and backing out before anybody could follow her. Thinking over Lila's last statement, Helga peered out of the heavy, wooden door before exiting completely. A long way from superficial, Helga was aware that if she were going to meet Derek after practice (though neither had specified exactly whose practice they'd meet after), it probably would have been a better idea to hide the exhaustion she wore from her hard practice than wear it proudly. Searching her duffel bag half-heartedly, he fished out only an old tube of chapstick, and figured that was the most makeup she'd be wearing for the time being. She was too tired to worry about much else. Tapping her foot against the cold linoleum of the school's hallway, Helga waited patiently for Derek, thinking that his practice was either ending soon, or over. Walking over to the nearest door, she peered out of the tiny, square window, out at the track field, surrounding the turf that Derek and his team were practicing on. It was abandoned, and had grown dark outside since Helga left. Figuring that he and his team, were finished and changing out of their lacrosse uniforms, and would be out momentarily. Dropping her bags at her feet, she leaned against the wall and waited.

Every time a door opened, or footsteps pounded down the hallway, or a piece of paper fell from an overflowing trashcan, Helga would jump up, moving towards the sound. And every time, she found herself sorely disappointed.

It wasn't until exactly one hour, forty-three minutes and twelve seconds after her own practice ended, that Helga snatched her bag for the floor, and stomped to her car angrily.

Once inside the car, she wiped away any traces of the chapstick, knowing the gesture itself was immature, but wishing to rid herself of any remnants of her foolishness. Digging through her bag, she retrieved her phone from the bottom, placed it in her lap, and started the car. Once out of her parking spot, and heading towards the street, she dialed the number she memorized and awaited the pickup she knew was inevitable.

"Hello?"

"Hey, are you busy?" she asked, not bothering to introduce herself.

"Not at all. Why?" the voice on the other end asked.

"I was thinking about hanging out tonight. Sound good?" Helga asked, eyeing both sides of the road to avoid any oncoming cars.

"I don't see why not."

"Great. Be over in five." Helga said, hanging up. Her decision to spend the evening away from home was spontaneous, but she needed to get away. And what better place than her best friend's home?

Turning onto the street and away from the school, in the darkness, Helga failed to notice the dark car parked on the side of the road, sporting a small dent on the hood.

* * *

"Okay, time to talk. Why'd you call me?"

Helga looked up from her nearly empty plate, and eyed her table companion suspiciously. Raising her eyebrow, she replied, "What? I can't call up my best friend and ask to hang out?"

"We hung out yesterday." Arnold said, bluntly.

"That was hardly hanging out. We watched a movie with Gerald and Phoebe and I fell asleep on your couch." she said, twisting the paper wrapper of her straw around her finger. "Would you like me to leave?" Helga asked, know well enough that he didn't want her to leave, and that she herself was not going to either way.

"I mean it, Helga. What's going on?" he said, leaning forward.

"It's nothing, I just…didn't want to go home after practice today." Helga said, eyeing the small café they'd chosen. The few times that she and Arnold "went out", their place of choice was always Pantino's,the small café in which they sat. It wasn't particularly unique in anyway, and the food was a little more expensive than Helga liked to pay on a daily basis. But it was quiet, being a Tuesday night, and the two had little else to distract them. Their waitress came then, to ask if they wanted any dessert. Arnold replied with a no, and Helga asked for a slice of cheesecake, waiting until she left before looking back at Arnold.

"You know you're going to tell me anyway…" Arnold teased, earning him a smile from Helga. The night before had been awkward for both parties, and they were both relieved that any tension between them had settled.

Helga smile turned awkward as she questioned whether or not she should tell Arnold what commenced just less than an hour before. She now reasoned that since nothing would come out of anything between she and Derek, she might as well tell him. And the fact that he had done, more or less, the same thing in regards to his past crushes, made her feel more comfortable about speaking with him about it.

"Well, it's just that…", she began, before rolling her eyes and starting again. "There's this guy, and I think, or thought, I was starting to like him. And, I don't know, he seemed really nice, and sweet, and just…cool, y'know?" Helga asked, knowing her speech made little sense. "Well, he walked me to my practice today, and I think he was going to ask me out. I mean, maybe he wasn't, but I really thought he was. But, we got interrupted so we agreed to meet up after our practices, because he's on Lacrosse and I had Dance Company. Well, anyway, I don't know what happened, but…he just stood me up."

"Stood you up?" Arnold asked, not quite getting the grip of her words right away.

"Yeah, like, I stood there for over an hour, and he just...never came." she said, sounding upset and dejected. Taking another deep breath, she spoke again. "But it's fine, now. I mean, what did I expect?"

Arnold quickly picked up on the undertones of her words; Helga was still upset, and reasonably so. Although she wore a thick mask of confidence, she had her moments of temporary weakness, and Arnold could tell that this may have been one of them. He was happy, if nothing else, that she trusted him enough to tell him, especially right after it happened, when the wound was still fresh.

"Helga, I'm sorry. Trust me, that guy…whoever he is, he's crazy, okay?" Arnold said, as reassuringly as he could.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, he was going to ask _me _out, after all. That alone should have set me off." Helga replied, laughing at her own self-defamatory joke. "Nah, it's all good, Arnold. I just needed to vent a little." she remarked, before the same waitress, placed a plate holding Helga's cheesecake, atop the table, glanced briefly at Arnold and then left. Thanking the waitress before she left, Helga turned to her slice and her smile wavered before retreating altogether.

Atop the slice of cheesecake was a single red strawberry, drizzled in what was probably strawberry syrup. Before she could manuever a way to eradicate the venomous fruit from her cheesecake, a large masculine hand slid across the table, and scooped the strawberry and any offending drizzle away with it's pinky finger. Arnold popped the strawberry and a small chunk of cheese into his mouth, offering Helga a smile in return.

"Wow," Helga began, feigning amazement. "I wasn't aware that you were from a planet where it's okay to put your hands all over other people's food." she said before stabbing her fork into the cheesecake and taking a bite herself.

"Don't be bitter, I just saved your life." he said, . "And you know I've always got your back."

"Yeah, well, I saw the look that waitress gave you." Helga said, motioning to the waitress' station not far from their booth. Leaning forward, she whispered, "I think she was trying to get rid of me so she can have you all to yourself."

"Please." he said, leaning away from her. "However, that would be a pretty effective way of getting rid of you…" he began never taking his eyes off of Helga, as she slapped him playfully on the arm and resumed eating her slice of cake.

"What?" Helga asked, looking up at Arnold and trying to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. His staring was planting more ridiculous notions in her head, and she'd barely had room for the ones she put there herself.

"Nothing" He replied, looking at his plate that once held a turkey sandwich. "That just reminded me of…"

"Our senior trip?" Helga asked. She had long ago realized that Arnold was reluctant to mention their trip, possibly for the sake of avoiding any embarrassment. Helga learned to deal with it and her initial frustrations eventually died away, chalking Arnold's slight apathy up to a bad habit. "That seems like such a long time ago…" she said, her words trailing off.

"Yeah." he replied simply.

Sensing the evening was bearing an end, Helga unfolded her napkin and addressed Arnold. "I think this place is closing up soon." Helga said, standing and dusting a few crumbs off of her large dance t-shirt and lap. Leaving pay for her half of the meal and a decent sized tip, Helga waited until Arnold stood to walk towards the door.

Once outside, Arnold stood and faced Helga, smiling, while still concerned. They'd met up at his home, but driven in separate vehicles before meeting up at Pantino's.

"You gonna be okay?" Arnold asked, slightly motioning for a friendly hug.

"Of course. I'm a big girl, remember?" she asked, smiling back, and stepping into his arms. Accepting the hug without hesitation, or any awkwardness, the two remained in that state for a few seconds before parting mutually.

"Be safe." Arnold said, after stepping back. Again, Helga offered a wide smile and shrugged her shoulders. Before much thought, Arnold stepped forward, planting a chaste kiss on Helga's cheek, not noticing the reddish tinge that surrounded the offending area. "See you tomorrow." he said, before turning to his own car.

Smiling and waving until he was out of sight, Helga calmly entered her vehicle, and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, Helga spent the next two minutes open-hand smacking her steering wheel and screaming incoherent words.

Leaning her head back on the headrest, she sighed, mentally admitting defeat. "Crimeny…I'm right back where I started."

* * *

_Hahaha!! I love one of those days where I cannot stop writing! Because that was today! I couldn't stop! I wrote this entire chapter in one day, which doesn't happen often. I told you guys I'd be getting sick soon, and I spent the past three days doing nothing but writing. And sneezing. And coughing. And popping antibiotics.  
_

_Aww, aren't Arnold and Helga sweet together? Just more proof that their friendship is very strong. And fear not, Derek-lovers, he will make a comeback very soon with an explanation for blowing off Helga. And, no, he's not dead. As much as I love any A/H action, I wouldn't just kill off my OC or anything like that. Promise._

_As I may have mentioned that I'm cooking up some ideas for (gasp) some original fiction, and I currently have the Prologue, first, and second chapter for my first original story all written out and typed up. As of right now, it's all about getting the guts to put it up. It'll be over at FictionPress, and my name there is the same as over here. I've thought of changing it a few times, but I've been PointyObjects for so long, I can't even think of another name I'd like to go by (I actually once signed a check with PointyObjects…I'm that attached to it…). So, when I get th nerve to post it up there, be sure to check it out and review!_

_Hope you enjoyed! Later Days!_

_-PointyO_

_Aka_

_Antoinette_


	8. There's No Sense in Complaining

The Compromise

Chapter 7: There's No Sense in Complaining

* * *

Arnold entered the aged boarding house with less caution and more noise than he usually would have, but knowing that most of the boarders were either asleep or too tired to protest, he made little, if any, effort to stifle his noisy strides up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he tossed his car keys on his faded red couch and perched himself on his bed, preparing to rest for the night. Almost as if on schedule, his phone gave a shrill call from across the room, and he rose to retrieve it.

Flipping the phone open quickly, he answered lazily without checking the Caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hey man, where've you been?" Gerald asked.

"Oh, me and Helga grabbed a bite to eat." Arnold said, not intending to elaborate, but knowing beforehand that he would have to.

"Now, didn't I tell you that everything would work out? All you had to do was listen to me…" he bragged, a self-satisfied tone in his voice.

"Of course, Gerald. Anyway, it was kind of spontaneous. She was a little upset, but I think-"

"She was upset?" Gerald asked, his attention peaked. "What did you do now?"

"I'll have you know, that I didn't do anything." Arnold said, knowing better than to take offense. Even he had to admit that he was one of the reasons that Helga had been upset lately. "Actually, it was some other guy today."

"Another guy?" Gerald prompted.

"Yeah…I don't know all the details, but apparently some guy stood her up, or something after school. She called me up and we went to Pantino's for a minute. She didn't seem too angry, or anything…just upset." Arnold explained. Inwardly, he was upset himself, mostly for the fact that Helga was disappointed and that it was a guy who did the deed. Helga hadn't mentioned any guys to him, and he expected as much. The sporadic relationships that she did have throughout high school were short-lived and, in her own words, 'not worth thinking about twice'. When Helga was clearly interested in someone, she'd let him, of all people, know, even if nothing came of it. Nevertheless, Arnold was caught somewhat off guard by the news this guy, knowing in the back of his mind that this instance would not be the last he heard of him.

"Wait, Helga was seeing somebody?" Gerald asked.

Arnold paused before answering. Could it be that Helga was already seeing someone and keeping it from him? "I'm not sure. I don't even know who the guy is…" Arnold said, steadily growing tired of the conversation. Gerald, however, had one or two more questions.

"So you two are alright? No more fighting, and avoiding each other?" he asked, hopefully. He and Phoebe could only do so much in regards to reconnecting their often estranged friends.

"Yeah, we're just fine." Arnold said, leaning back into his computer chair, contemplating his evening with Helga, and in particular, his goodbye to her. He could not pinpoint the reason for the meek and artless kiss, but he could find little to no regret in him for the action itself. He could not, however, be sure what would come of it; nothing, he surmised, but the thought still lingered in his head if something awkward would pass between them because of the intimate gesture.

"'Bout time, buddy. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall down a manhole or something. See ya tomorrow…" Gerald finished, pausing before hanging up, leaving Arnold to mull over his situation alone.

Arnold placed his phone back on his computer desk and changed quickly into an old t-shirt and sweatpants and climbed into bed. He tossed around in his bed for a few moments, hoping that he hadn't started something he could not finish, before letting his concerns drift away and surrendering to sleep.

* * *

Helga stared diligently at the illuminated computer screen. With the blinds over the windows drawn, the screen was the only artificial light in the room, which was alright with her, as she needed no other light for her task. It was a rare occasion for Helga to have finished all her work as an aide in one period, but there was a large amount of testing going on for underclassmen, so the teachers took over a majority of the grading for their respective classes. Helga took the opportunity to finish some of her own assignments and use the school's computer's for her own enjoyment. In addition, seeing as she had no instructors to deal with for the time being, she sat quietly in the room, the only sound filling her ears were the ones that her tiny, white MP3 player produced.

Her eyes were currently scrolling across a white page, where she typed idly, ignoring her surroundings, and focusing her attention on her writing. Despite busying herself with music, the internet and her own creative ideas, she could not help but notice the reflection on the computer screen that temporarily distracted her from her work. The figure was clearly male, and not a teacher, from it's entrance into the room. Knowing the identity of the person immediately (or taking no chances in case she was wrong), Helga squared her shoulders and silently vowed not to turn around under any circumstances. Typing against the keyboard more furiously, Helga listened harder to her music, knowing now that her newest room companion was currently speaking to her.

After Helga sat stagnate for a few moments, she mentally admitted defeat, knowing that she could not get anymore work done while _he _was in her presence, and stealthily turned off the computer. There was at least ten minutes before classes were to end, but she had nothing better to do, and she wasn't thrilled at all about sharing a room with someone she had very little desire to even speak to. Her bags were already at her feet, and in one swift motion, she was out of her chair with her things in tow, and walking past the person who (much to her surprise) found a seat directly behind her. Ignoring his closeness to her, Helga attempted to stride past him until he stepped directly in her path, confronting her head on.

"Helga." he said, asking nothing, merely getting her attention.

In turn, Helga looked Derek square in the eye, not bothering to spare him a glare that unmistakably revealed her anger and disappointment in him. Without saying a word, she allowed him to continue, but refusing to let him off the hook in any way.

"Look, I can explain." he began, expecting her to say something smart or dry. When she merely crossed her arms (somewhat awkwardly, he noticed with the large bags she held) and raised an eyebrow at him. "I had to leave practice early yesterday. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't have a choice." he said, meekly.

Relaxing her frown, Helga wrinkled her nose, looking as though she was deep in thought and answered quickly. "Okay." she said, attempting to move around him again, but thwarted by his similar sidestep.

"'Okay?' That's all? You don't want to know _why _I had to leave?" he asked, sincerely.

"Derek, if you _really _did have to leave, then you shouldn't _have _to explain yourself. If you're just looking to use a really convincing alibi, then you can just save it for the next girl. No use wasting it on me." she said, stepping back and slipping between desks toward the door.

"I'm not lying, Helga. Why would I lie to you?" he asked, his voice bordering somewhere between desperation and frustration.

"I don't know, Derek!" Helga said loudly in the empty hallway, snatching her headphones from her ears. "But what I do know is that yesterday after practice, there was some stupid girl waiting outside the gym, probably thinking too much of herself and some guy who didn't have the common courtesy to pass the message along to one of his friends, so that _they _could at least let this stupid girl know not to wait up for something she shouldn't have been looking forward to in the first place." Helga bit back, whirling around and revealing her back to Derek, before he launched forward and latched himself to her upper arm with his right hand. "But it's fine; I mean, why should you have to answer to me, anyway?"

"I'm not going to try and fight with you. No, I shouldn't have left you waiting last night. And I'm sorry you had to wait at all. If I could have come, I would have. Please know that." he said, nearly pleading with her with his eyes. Cracking a boyish smile, he continued, "Knowing that you even waited for me, almost makes it worth breaking my finger."

Helga wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Breaking your…what did you do?!" she exclaimed, looking down at the appendage still tenderly attached to her upper arm.

"I told you, I broke my finger. Guess I'm not that great of a Lacrosse player." he joked, releasing his hold on her and flexing all of his fingers except for the thumb.

Rolling her eyes, Helga looked around the empty hallway, attempting to avoid the smile that was creeping up on her face. Releasing a breath, she met Derek's gaze and thought of something to say, but remaining silent when met with his genuineness.

"So do you forgive me?" he asked, clutching his two hands together as best as he could while petitioning Helga comically.

"I suppose." she answered after a moment, not bothering to hide her feigned coldness.

"Which translates to 'Not yet'." Derek said, beginning to walk down the hallway, away from the classroom, with Helga following not far behind. "I do still have to find a way to celebrate your having made the team."

Helga thought for a moment. Derek did have a legitimate reason for "standing her up", if she could even call it that anymore. And for some reason that was far beyond her own comprehension, he still wanted to spend time with her. She couldn't imagine why, but decided not to jump into anything right away. "I don't know…" she said, avoiding eye contact.

"Understandable. I'll have to earn your trust. That's fine." he said, shifting his books around under his left arm, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I have Photo Lab after lunch period. Meet me there?" Noticing the skeptical look Helga gave him, he proceeded. "Won't be late, cross my heart."

"I'm not so sure…"

"You have my word…if I fail to meet you there, you may do anything you'd like to my car." he said.

"Are you sure about that? I've seen that Carrie Underwood video a couple of times, and I think I've got her technique down-packed." Helga joked.

"On my honor, I will personally _give _you a Louisville Slugger."

Smiling, Helga held out her hand. "Deal."

"Yeah, I'd shake your hand, but…"

"Sorry." Helga said, pulling her had back and focusing on the stack of books ready to tumble to the floor from under Derek's arm. "Do you need some help with those?" she asked. They'd walked farther away from the English Office than originally intended, and by the time he would have walked back, the books would have fallen several times.

"Helga, I couldn't ask you to carry my books for me." he said, feigning shock.

"Well, we've already established that I'm more of a man than you are." she said, taking a few of the books and tucking them safely between her chest and forearm.

"How so?" he asked, only slightly taken aback.

"I got through _my _practice without breaking anything. Can't say the same for you." she said, walking ahead, and smiling when his footsteps quickened to catch up with hers.

* * *

Arnold flipped absentmindedly through his textbook, ignoring all words and captions, paying attention only to the photos that inhabited nearly every page. From bowls of fruit to distant landscapes to close-ups of people's faces, Arnold stared at each photo closely before turning the page, only to find a more striking photo. His professor was going on about line, shape, form, and texture, and in any other instance, Arnold would have been anything but disinterested. But his mind was on other things, class was over in a matter of minutes, and he needed a stronger distraction than a balding photography teacher. The opening of the classroom's door drew everyone's attention to it, especially Arnold, as he was seated closest to the door.

Arnold recognized the person entering the classroom, not as a close companion, but someone who would occasionally pop into his Photo Lab class, using the darkroom or helping out the teacher in one way or another. One day, Arnold saw some of his photos and was stunned at the professionalism of them. He'd never openly admit it, but he was impressed with the fellow senior's work. Arnold turned back to his photography textbook as his classmate approached the teacher.

"Here's the safelights I promised for the darkroom, Mr. Z. I picked up a few amber and yellow ones just in case." he said, handing the teacher a brown paper shopping bag.

"Thank you, Mr. Bailey, I'll install these after class. You may take a seat wherever you like. Now, the placement of shapes in the middle of the frame, near the edges…"

Derek made his way to the back of the classroom, to the table nearest the door. Each table was crafted, much like the ones found in the school's science labs: long black tabletops, with high legs, obviously meant to be used with high stools.

As Derek took a seat next to him, Arnold's eyes shifted over to the clumsy smack of his books on the hard, wooden table and the silver brace on his new table-mate's right thumb and the bright green cushioning beneath it. Meeting eyes, Arnold smiled and greeted Derek.

"What happened to your finger, man?" he asked, in a friendly tone.

Derek laughed and lifted his broken appendage. "Lax practice yesterday."

"Ouch." Arnold said, flipping another page in his book.

"You're telling me…perfect timing too." Derek said.

"Why? Were you looking to quit the team?" Arnold joked.

"Not quite." Derek said, shifting in his seat. "There's this girl I was gonna ask out yesterday, after practice. When I broke my finger, my coach made one of my teammates drive me to the emergency room, and now she thinks I stood her up." he said, in a more hushed tone than before. Derek sat, moving a pencil back and forth across the desk, not noticing Arnold's shocked expression.

Arnold sat, in a vegetative state, wracking his brain for a way to reply without giving himself, and more importantly, his bias, away. Turning back to his book, he erratically flipped page after page, ignoring even the photos now, busying his mind. "Well, um, I guess if you explain to her, what uh…what happened, she'll understand." he replied, hoping not to let his anxiety override him. "I mean…you like her, don't you? This isn't just…a conquest or anything?' he asked, finally meeting Derek's eyes again.

Derek looked at Arnold seriously before answering. "No. I really do like her. We both work as English aides in the morning, well…I'm an aide right after her. And one day, she left me a bunch of tests to finish, and I was looking over all the work she did before me. And I know it was just a bunch of tenth-grade tests, and all she really wrote was corrections and advice, and stuff, but everything she wrote was just…smart. And I was talking to her yesterday, before I broke my finger, and you can tell, by the way she talks and stuff, that she thinks about stuff. And not like other girls, y'know?" he said, looking to express himself without sounding too out of his mind. "That must not make a lot of sense, I guess."

Arnold was, to some extent, stunned by Derek's words. Not only had someone discovered one of the rare qualities in Helga, but it was someone that was genuinely interested in her. Had Derek hinted at any high school cliché bet/triumph in the form of getting to know Helga, he'd have given him an earful, swiftly followed by throwing the table at him. What was truly shocking, was that Helga seemed to have returned the sentiment, as shown by her reaction to his supposed rejection the night before. The ringing of the bell, signaling the end of the class, drew Arnold out of his daze, and he slowly gathered his backpack before turning back to Derek.

"Well, best of luck with everything." he said, before leaving. He wasn't entirely sure if he really meant it.

Gerald saw Arnold coming from down the hall, and could see from the slight panic in his face that something had gone wrong…again. Mentally preparing himself, he placed another book into his locker and squared his shoulders.

"Hey man, what's up?" he asked, mentally preparing himself for whatever news Arnold was going to break to him.

"Nothing." he said, attempting to calm himself down. "I know who he is."

Gerald blinked, waiting for Arnold to continue. When he did not, Gerald spoke again. "Who who is?"

"The guy that Helga likes."

Gerald paused again. "Helga likes somebody?"

"Well, yeah. I think so. Yes."

"So is this the guy you saw her drive away with on Monday, or the guy who stood her up?" Gerald asked.

Arnold thought hard about Gerald's question. He hadn't thought about Monday for a while, at least not in his pursuit to get back on her good side. In the time that had lapsed, he had not mentioned it to Helga, in the hopes of forgetting about it and on the other hand, hoping that she would as well. If indeed Derek was the person he'd seen Helga climb into a car with, he was that much further out of the loop.

"Um…I'm not sure."

"So who'd you find?"

"The guy who stood Helga up."

"Is he the same guy who gave her a ride home?"

"I just told you, I don't know." Arnold replied.

"You don't know if they're the same guy or you don't know who stood Helga up?"

"I do know who stood Helga up!"

"Well who is it?!"

"I…forgot his name." Arnold sighed.

Gerald took a deep breath, genuinely amused by Arnold's frustrations. "So you don't know…?"

"Gerald, I know who he is, I just forgot his name. "D" something; he's in my photo lab class after lunch." he explained.

"And how did you happen to find out the identity of Helga's mystery date?" For the most part, Gerald was enjoying the comedic value that the situation held. Arnold was on the other end of an uncomfortable scenario: a limbo in a friendship, with little control over the other person, yet waiting for their next move. Gerald had seen this same look of slight desperation numerous times before, only on the face of Helga.

"I don't know, he sat down next to me, and it turns out he broke his finger, and everything just came out. He just went on about how they met, and…" Arnold said, trailing off.

"And? Does he check out? Is he at least a nice guy?"

"Yeah. He seems like a great guy." Arnold said, coldly.

"Well, at least you're enthusiastic about it." Gerald teased. "C'mon Arnold, he doesn't sound so bad."

"Exactly! He doesn't sound so bad, because he probably isn't! I flat out asked him if he was interested in Helga for some bet or something, and he wasn't." Arnold said, falling backwards to lean on the locker next to Gerald's. Traffic in the hallway was diffusing, but he was not worried about being late to his last class.

"Arnold, from what you've told me this guy seems okay. What's your damage?" Gerald asked, sincerely concerned, but having an inkling of why Arnold was so upset.

"Helga…if she were to…and now there's this guy…you don't think things would be different?" Arnold asked, stumbling over his thoughts.

"Why would things be different? She's still going to be Helga, after all…" Gerald reminded his friend, now taking on the task of reassuring him. On a whim, Gerald spoke with boldness, getting Arnold's attention immediately.

"Do you still have that potato-alarm clock in your room?"

"What?" Arnold asked, clearly in his own world, thinking about Hekla, and inevitably, his place as her "friend" if anything were to come from this new addition to her life.

"You know, that clock you had in your room, with the potato."

"What about it?"

"Do you still have it?" Gerald asked, innocently.

"Yeah, so what?" Arnold asked in return.

"Does it still work?"

"Actually," Arnold began, smiling momentarily. "It doesn't, not anymore, at least."

"Oh." Gerald asked, feigning disinterest in the subject. "Do you think I could still borrow it?" he asked.

"What? Why?" Arnold wondered, shocked at the question.

"Well, I got to thinking about it, and I'm interested in how you got it to work using only a potato." he said.

"I don't think so…not that I don't trust you. It's just that…I've had it forever, I don't think my room would even look right without it." Arnold admitted, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, a tense habit he never let go of.

In reply, Gerald merely grinned, knowing before Arnold even realized it, that he was right.

"What?" Arnold asked, noticing Gerald's smile.

"Nothing, it's just that you've just proven me right, and you don't even know it." Gerald said, confidently.

"What are you talking about? Right about what?"

Okay, Arnold, I'm going to give it to you straight." Gerald said, taking on a serious tone. "You've known Helga for a long time, and granted, you two haven't always been the best of friends, but she's been a constant staple in your life for a while now. Being the staple that she is, you've naturally gotten used to her being around, much like your potato clock. Even when the two of you weren't speaking or, doing your whole "more than friends" thing, she was always _there_; no questions asked.

"What I'm seeing now is, somebody coming into the picture, vying for a portion of Helga's attention, kind of like when I asked to borrow your clock. Now, you already said your clock didn't work, but you hesitated in letting me borrow it. Likewise, you and Helga may not be dating, especially since you two have established yourself to be 'friends' just this week, but your hesitant to trust someone else with a position you once held, and may possibly be hoping to hold again. If, by some chance, you do _like _Helga, then, I'm afraid to say that it might be too late to act on it, if that was your intention at all."

Arnold stood quietly, facing his best friend in the empty hallway. He may not have agreed with every word of Gerald's theory, but he had to admit that for the most part, he was very, very right. In the back of his mind, Arnold was aware that he was interested in Helga, in one way or another. She was everything that his classmate described her to be, and even more. Along with being smart and funny, she was confident, outgoing and open-minded. Her quick mind and sharp tongue made her a joy to be around, and in the presence of Phoebe, Gerald and himself, she proved herself to be a sincerely good friend. She had her flaws, but Arnold often found himself ignoring her vices for the sake of her virtues.

Their closeness was a partial reason as to why Arnold sometimes kept Helga at arms length. She caught on to things quickly, and was hardly diffident about letting him have a piece of her mind if she felt the need to. Arnold found himself fearing that he would disappoint her with some of his habits; his sporadic and brief forays caused my peer pressure, and opted to surround himself with people who did not mind so much.

Phoebe and Gerald never got involved with his affairs, even if it meant associating with less intelligent and more shallow individuals. Helga would say little, aside from a smart remark and avoid him for an extended amount of time. Arnold never quite knew why, he figured that she didn't like his company and wanted him to know that. The thought that maybe, she may have felt something for him, and was merely waiting for him to notice, never really crossed his mind. The realization that Helga may have had feelings for him not so long ago, and that those feelings may soon be directed at someone else were startling, and somewhat disheartening.

"I'll give you a chance to think over what I said. See you later, buddy." Gerald said, placing a reassuring hand on Arnold's shoulder, before leaving the hallway to his last class of the day. He had a distinct feeling that he would get nothing out of it, aside from a lot more confusion.

* * *

"So, do I have an answer?"

Once again, Helga was escorting Derek to his next class, her own bags and a few of his bags in tow, continuing their conversation from earlier in the day.

"Depends." she said, simply, having a fun time leading him on just a bit.

Derek paused, knowing that Helga was paying him back for leaving her waiting the day before. "Depends upon…"

"The day. Time. Place. You fail to realize, I'm a very busy girl." she said, still smiling.

"Oh trust me, I know about you." he replied, earning him a playful glare in the nearly empty hallway. "I was thinking tonight. Around seven. And the place is for me to know, and for you to find out."

"Sounds like fun, but I work tonight." Helga stated, knowing this wouldn't be much of a deterrent for Derek. The guy had already broken a finger and was still willing to go out with her.

"Helga, are you trying to hide from me?" he asked.

"Derek, if I were trying to hide from you, we wouldn't be talking right now." Helga answered back. There was definitely some truth the her statement; if she were truly disinterested in spending time with Derek, he would have no question about it. Helga was not one to beat around the bush in regards to the people she chose to spend time with.

"When do you get off tonight?" he asked bluntly, knowing that classes were beginning soon, and he could only use his broken finger as an excuse for so long.

"Seven." Helga said, noticing the barrenness of the hallway.

"Perfect, I'll swing by and pick you up at seven." he stated, taking his few books back from Helga and looking back at her expectantly. "So where do you work exactly?" he asked, walking forward alongside her.

"It's on the corner of 14th and Elvaton. Big pink bow, can't miss it." Helga finished, amoment before the bell rang, signaling their tardiness. Turning from him once again, Helga beamed, and headed to her class. Before she could so much as blink, she found herself roughly snatched out of the hallway and into an empty, darkened classroom.

A deep voice resonated in the small room, but Helga could see no face in front of her to tie it to.

"We need to talk. _Now_."

* * *

Not much of a cliffhanger, but oh well. This is one of my longer chapters, but not on purpose. It just kept coming and coming. And different ideas kind of come out of the air at me, like Derek breaking his finger and standing Helga up. I literally thought that up as I was writing. Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed it.

Also, if you're reading this, then I should let you know that my first piece of original fiction is posted over at FictionPress! I couldn't decide if I wanted to post a new chapter for The Compromise as my first post of the new year, or my story. So I came to the conclusion that they'd both be my first posts (although I don't expect to get many reviews over there. I'm still working out a lot of kinks for that story.). I'm very critical of it, so if you would pretty please would just pop over, tell me what you think about it, I'd very much appreciate it. I still don't know how I feel about flames; I'd like to be the kind of person who just doesn't care at all, but I think I do. It might make me upset, but not too much. If I were to ever get one, I'd still write, no question. It'll take more than some artfully contrived words to shut me down, baby.

Not much Art Imitating Life lately…Pantino's is the affectionate name I gave my former job (really called Panera Bread Café and Bakery). It was one of those café type places where the food is actually really bad for you, but you go there because your friends are addicted to it and you don't have the heart to tell them that their slowly killing themselves with overpriced muffins.

That's all for me, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Adios!

-PointyO

a.k.a.

Antoinette


	9. It Doesn't Change Your Mind

The Compromise

Chapter Eight: It Doesn't Change Your Mind

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold or the movie A Bronx Tale. Or any of the sings used in this chapter.

* * *

A deep voice resonated in the small room, but Helga could see no face in front of her to tie it to.

"We need to talk. _Now_."

Helga was alarmed, not only by the darkness of the room, but the familiarity of the voice. Raising her eyebrow, she groped along the wall for the light switch as she spoke. "Haha, how funny. Come on, quit playing; I know who you are."

"No you do not…" the voice said, approaching Helga, it's face clouded with a dark, hooded sweatshirt. "My identity is forever a secret."

Skeptically, Helga flipped the light switch and stood in front of her interrogator. "So what do we need to talk about, Lila?" she asked, nearly laughing at the obviousness.

Pouting, Lila uncovered her hood, a look of feigned anger on her face. "No fair. You weren't supposed to figure it out."

"Well you forget, that this," she began, snatching the vanilla colored device from her friend and holding it up. "used to be mine."

"And I still don't get why you gave all this stuff away either. Well actually I kind of do. Either way, it's totally cool. And the trench coat? They're so coming back. I was reading in Teen Scene magazine; I know, that magazine is, like, for fourteen year old girls or whatever, but I swear, they have the cutest makeup tips, anyway I was reading that trench coats are totally-"

"Yes, yes, that's all very fascinating. Mind telling me why we are in an empty classroom discussing trench coats?" Helga asked, growing impatient.

"Well, I saw you talking to Mr. Hottie McHotterson from yesterday, and know the girls are just going to pounce on you once we get in the locker room, so I was thinking, that I could help you figure out what you're going to tell everybody. You know, by hearing every last detail." she finished eagerly.

By then, the two had gathered their things (Lila's deposited near the door) and were walking down the empty hallway, clearly late for their class. "Did you just refer to Derek as Mr. Hottie McHotterson?"

"Maybe." she replied meekly. "It doesn't matter; I know you think he's hot." she said, confidently.

"Whatever." Helga said, moving down the hallway and into a nearby stairwell. "Simply put, there's nothing to tell." she said, hoping to avoid the conversation that could, and more than likely would develop from her statement.

"Nothing to tell? Helga, there's never 'nothing to tell'. I mean, unless you didn't go, or something. But you went, right?" she asked, not expecting anything other than a yes. Helga's silence in the vacant stairwell set off an alarm, and Lila stopped walking. "Helga, whatever the "G" stands for Pataki, tell me you didn't bail on this guy!"

"My middle name is-"

"Irrelevant for the time being!" She said, bringing her open palm up to Helga's face. "Just tell me that you didn't not ditch this guy. I mean, you were so excited yesterday…" she whined.

"It's not a big deal, really. He broke his finger at practice, and we had to postpone." she said, smiling, convincingly.

"He broke his finger for you? Shut up!" she squealed, propelling herself in the air, surprisingly high for someone of her stature.

Helga sighed. "He broke his finger during practice. It had nothing to do with me."

"Oh puh-lease. If I know anything, he was probably running around that field, trying to impress you, and broke his finger, but didn't say anything until you left the field so that you'd think he was…macho or something." she said, her toe changing from ecstatic to matter-of-factly. "So, the make up date. I need to know the WWW ASAP." She asked.

Helga replied only with a look of confusion. She was accustomed to Lila using acronyms on a regular basis, but too many thrown together usually left her baffled.

"The WWW?" she stated again, as if this were to jog Helga's memory of the statement. "The When, Where and What you're wearing. Duh." she said, laughing.

"Oh." Helga replied, knowing better than to take anything Lila said to offense. "Would'nt that be 4 W's? Like, an extra one for the 'wearing?"

"Whatever…"

"Well, I don't know the when, or the where, exactly. And I guess I'll just wear whatever I'm wearing to work."

"Gross, why would you do that?"

"Because I have to go to work right after school. He's going to pick me up right after and go…wherever we're going." Helga said as casually as she could. In truth, she found herself excited about going out with Derek. The event would more than likely be causal, without he normal clutter that came with high school "dating". Nevertheless, she enjoyed getting to know him so far, and hoped that the night went along smoothly, if nothing else.

"Really? I mean, you can't bring something to change into?" she asked, as if Helga were dressed in a cow costume, instead of a sweatshirt and dark jeans. "Hey, maybe you can borrow something from your job and wear that."

Helga rolled her eyes, and shifted her bags on her shoulder. The two were close to the dance studio and Helga was eager to relieve the ache that came with carrying such a heavy load. "Do you remember where I work? I don't think I'd wear some of that stuff on a date."

Lila's mouth suddenly became a perfectly shape "O", and Helga wondered what her words triggered to momentarily render Lila speechless.

"What?" Helga finally asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

"You just said 'date'." Lila stated bluntly and smiling like a fool.

Helga's tiny smile faltered as her eyes widened. She began stuttering looking for a way out, but finding none. "I meant, 'date' as in the…Latin term, _data_, which just means on a certain day. I meant that I wouldn't wear any of that stuff on a certain day. Meaning today. Which is what I meant."

Lila nodded, sarcastically, crossing her arms outside of the dance studio. Smiling as Helga finished her short (and rather unconvincing) speech, she reached out her hand and rested it on Helga's shoulder in mock sympathy.

"Sweetie," she said, laying on her long-since abandoned country accent. "If that's what you want to believe, then go right ahead." Leaving Helga alone in the hallway, she headed for the door, pausing before her open palm could push it open. "Can I ask you something real quick?"

"Sure." Helga said, expecting another question regarding her attire for the night, what she planned to say to him, or the like.

"Does Arnold know about your date tonight?"

Once again, Lila's words made Helga face fall, before she began reasoning anxiously in her head.

* * *

"Are you listening to me, Pataki?"

Helga focused her gaze back to the person before her, and attempted to paint a more interested look on her face. "Of course I am, Leslie." she answered, flatly. Her co-captain decided to make her stay a few extra moments after everyone else had left, to remind her of her upcoming performance over the weekend.

"I'm serious, Pataki. Don't go screwing this up." she said, threateningly.

"Yeah, because I'd do that on purpose. Just to get under your skin." she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling devilishly. She was all too aware that Leslie wanted the part that would be taking a large portion of her Saturday. The gig itself was small in comparison to most recitals; a small group of high school dance students were chosen to choreograph a recital for primary-school aged children, and were rewarded with trophies and money for the school. Helga was paired with none other than P.S. 118, and their newly formed after-school dance program. In addition to getting a break from working with people her own age, and visiting the few teachers that remained at P.S. 118, Helga was excited about teaching ad performing the dance with the school as was required for the recital. Her group was willing to learn, eager and creative, which made her job a lot easier, and a lot less like work. Not only that, but she was well aware that Leslie wanted the job, and was complaining about losing the position to anyone that would listen. Helga, on the other hand, was overjoyed that Leslie didn't get the job, even if she was a better dancer than she. Leslie viewed the privilege as a job; something to put on her resume of talents and accomplishments, caring little about the children she'd be teaching. Even if all the kids missed their cues and tripped over each other and forgot their steps, Helga would be satisfied if they had a good time, and learned something, even if it wasn't how to dance.

"Don't screw with me Pataki. Marie Osmond could teach those kids to dance better than you, and if I could, you'd be out of that position, and out of this Company. Don't forget for a second that I have far more influence in this Company than you can imagine." she said, her face hard.

Helga sighed, and cocked her head to one side, lazily. "If you're all done with your power trip, I have a job to get to. Toodles." she said, shrugging her shoulder and smiling happily, brushing Leslie's words off of her back and leaving the dance studio. Before being summoned, she changed into her school/work clothes, so as to leave directly after practice and head straight to work.

Outside, the air was chilly, and Helga rushed to her car, parked as close to the school as possible. Pulling out her keys, she began crossing the parking lot when she heard her name. Whirling around, she initially smiled, seeing who was headed her way, until she remembered Lila's question prior to practice.

"Hey!' she said, overly excited, attempting to mask the anxiety that came with seeing Arnold hours before going out with someone else.

"Hey, glad I caught you." he said, catching up to her. For a moment, Helga found her resolve waning; she had to admit, when she and Arnold were friends, they were good friends. Being on good terms with him, though often shaky and slightly unpredictable, left her at ease and relaxed.

"Really?" she asked, some of the nervousness disappearing from her voice.

Arnold's hand casually went to the back of his head, as it usually did when the two of them were speaking without an audience. This motion alone dissipated some of her apprehension as he spoke. "I just wanted to catch you before you left for work…to make sure everything was alright. You seemed a little upset last night."

Last night. Helga thought back to the night before; to her it felt like much longer than a day. Last night she was looking forward to talking to Derek after practice. Last night she was stood up. Last night she randomly called Arnold and went out for dinner. Last night Arnold kissed her and left her more confused than she cared to think about.

"Yeah. Last night…everything's fine now. It was a big misunderstanding…" she said, gesturing nervously.

"A misunderstanding?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. The guy, he, um…he broke his finger, and so…that's why." she replied.

"That's good to hear." he said, halfheartedly, looking away from Helga. "I mean, not good that he broke his finger, but good that you didn't get 'stood up'. Accidents happen, I guess." he said.

"Yeah…" she replied, sensing the conversation drifting off into nothingness. "But thanks so much, for last night. I really appreciate it, Arnold." she smiled genuinely at him and relaxed her shoulders when her returned the smile.

"Of course, I mean, we're friends…right?"

Helga's smile hardly fell, at least outwardly as she responded. "Of course. The best."

"Good. So, I guess I'll be seeing you later?" he asked.

Helga nodded, her smile still plastered in place, and waited until Arnold turned to walk away before doing the same. Taking a long, deep breath of the cool air surrounding her, Helga retreated into her car and left the school parking lot.

* * *

"You know, Gee's gonna kill you for eating that up here."

"Whatever, it's a pretzel."

Helga shook her head and laughed, returning to her task of marking down leotards. The constant click of the markdown gun, kept her from staring at the clock, eagerly awaiting seven o'clock. She was paying little attention to her job, and this didn't go unnoticed by her coworker.

"You do realize that you're marking all those leotards to $149.90, right?" he asked, before taking another large bite out of his cinnamon covered pretzel.

"Wha-?" Helga began asking, eyeing her work and realizing hat she'd marked and entire rack of leotards as $149.90 instead of $14.99. "Scheisse!" she said, carelessly smacking the rack and sending a few garments flying.

"Watch that language, missy. We're all family here." he said, through a mouthful of food.

Helga rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue in response. Robbie was her cousin, and hardly, if ever, let her forget it. She was overall appreciative, always wanting an older brother, but getting Olga instead. Robbie was barely a year older than her; the son of her mother's sister. The two hardly looked alike, his dark hair and boyish features clashing with Helga's blonde hair and angled face. In addition, he stood nearly six inches over her and was more muscular in comparison to her frame. Where the differed in appearance, they more than made up for in interests.

Growing up, Helga's mother pursued multiple hobbies; bull riding, painting, various sports, and most predominantly, dance. She and her older sister's participated in numerous ballroom dancing competitions and won many awards. Miriam and Diana, her sister closest to her in age, eventually fell out of the craft as their domestic lives took over, although Miriam delved into it after a short trip the beach a few years prior. The two encouraged their children to do the same, although Helga got started much later and for different reasons, Robbie had been dancing for as long as either of them could remember, and had no qualms about letting Helga know how much better of a dancer he was. Helga took it in stride, and often went to him for help with choreography and the like.

"What are you going to do, tell my mommy?" she teased, picking up the fallen clothes, and resetting the numbers on her markdown gun.

"Maybe." he replied, finishing off his food. "Did you want me to get you something? I have a few more minutes left in my break."

"Nah, I'm fine. I'm going out tonight after I got off, anyway." Helga said, not breaking her concentration, but smiling nonetheless.

"I saw that little smirk."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Helga responded, remarking all the clothes on the rack, one by one, hoping to pass the time.

"Quit playing; do you really have a date tonight?" he asked, walking around the register to stand in front of her. The store they worked in was large, and neither could tell if there were any customers in the store. Gee's Dance Apparel and Consignment Shop was a bi-level store, located in the heart of tiny Hillwood. It was a staple in the area, not only for the eccentricities of the owner, but because of it's bright, pink neon bow above the store's sign, drawing people's attention from far away. The sign simply read "Gee's" but everyone knew what was sold in the store, even if they were not regular shoppers.

Georgia McDonaldson was a former dancer, having traveled the world, learning different forms of dance and perfecting her craft for over 50 years. She eventually settled in Hillwood, to be near her family and "contribute to the futures of young dancers", as she told her employees. She took in used dance costumes, altered them and donated them to schools that could not afford them under normal circumstances. In some cases, she would tailor costumes and apparel for an entire group of dancers, and alter them personally for each dancer, making them special and unique. In addition, her store served as a community consignment shop, earning her the respect of many in the area.

"It's not a date, it's-"

"It's never a date, my dear." came a voice from the loud speaker in the store. Gee, or Miss Gee as she was often called, emerged from behind a shelf of resoled pointe shoes, dressed from head to toe in her signature (and favorite) colors, deep purple and burgundy. The large purple poncho billowed around her, as she glided towards her niece and nephew. No one was more excited about having Helga and Robbie pursue her favorite form of expression, than she. The eldest of her sisters, Gee left home at age 17 to pursue dancing, and settled in Hillwood to be near the family that she had left long ago.

As Robbie wiped any remains of his lunch form his face, Helga turned and smiled in the direction of her aunt. Though eccentric and rather unconventional in her ways, Helga loved spending time with her aunt, and trusted her completely.

"It's complicated, Aunt Gee." Helga said, leaning her head upon on hand, and her upper body along the edge of the counter.

"It always is." she said, sympathetically. "Now, come, tell me of this boy who has wooed my favorite niece." said Gee, clapping her hands, dramatically.

Helga didn't miss the snicker that came from Robbie when her aunt said "wooed". "He hasn't wooed me, Aunt Gee." she replied.

"Really, because your face is saying to me, 'I am a woman who has been thoroughly wooed.'"

Robbie all but fell down from laughter, causing Helga to turn and scowl at him. Turning back to her aunt, she straightened her posture, and thought about Derek for a moment. She refused to believe that she was "thoroughly wooed" or anything of the sort, knowing she hadn't had enough contact with him to be that enamored of him. In her eyes, he was someone who shared her interests, kept her attention and made her laugh. She was eager to get to know him better, and had to admit that she would have been slightly disappointed if nothing came from the night except another friendship.

And then there was Arnold. Just the night before, she admitted not only that she was beginning to like someone else, but that she would have been on a "date" with that person instead of out with him had the situation been different. She hadn't meant to be so candid, and had she not been so upset, Arnold would know less than he already did. She hadn't told him that she was going out with Derek, even if her mind wanted her to. She was frustrated with herself for not being able to reveal, with the same level of openness and carelessness, when she was generally interested I someone else, as Arnold was. She was aware that it was because Arnold still held a place in her heart and mind, and the thought brought little comfort to her.

"Come, come, speak. Does he dance?" Gee asked, leaning forward.

Now free from her daze, Helga stood up straight and began marking the leotards with the correct prices. "First of all, I am not thoroughly wooed. Second, no, he's not a dancer, as far as I know. And…I don't know. There's not much else to tell." she said, quietly.

"Well do you like him?" Robbie asked, suddenly straightening up and smiling.

"I guess…I mean, I just…I…yeah?" she said, gesturing somewhat wildly, trying to make up for her confusion. "It's not that simple." she said, pointing her markdown gun at Robbie.

"Well, do you at least think he's good looking?" he asked, trying to get something out of her.

Helga paused running the gun up and down the bridge of her nose, leaving a rectangular, white price sticker directly between her eyes. "I mean, yeah, he's good looking, but it's not like that's all there is to him. I wouldn't be going out with him if he were just a pretty face." Taking a deep breath, she began again. "He's really smart, and kind of weird, and…I don't know. We like the same stuff, and, we're both English aides, right? We spend the entire hour of class, talking. Just talking, about…everything. It's kind of nice, y'know?" she asked, knowing good and well that she wasn't making any sense, but continuing anyway. Noticing the beaming faces of her cousin and aunt, she snapped out of her own daze, and got back to work. "It doesn't matter anyway, right? For all I know, he could be trying to set me u with some weirdo cousin of his so they can double date, or something."

"Actually, all of my cousins are pretty much toddlers, so that'd be a little creepy."

In one, disjointed motion, Helga's arms shot up and the price gun went flying as she whirled to face the source of the all to familiar voice. Before she could register the embarrassment from having Derek hear her talk about him, she saw the path of the price marking gun and her eyes widened, awaiting the impact that was sure to come. Her hands flew to her mouth and she shut her eyes, before his own hands went up to cover his face.

Uncovering her eyes in unison with the outburst of laughter from her family members, she saw Derek, holding the handheld device and holding his own forehead. Rounding the cash register, she rushed over to make sure that she hadn't temporarily erased his memory.

Before Helga could begin the string of apologies that were swarming in her head, Derek's hand came up to prevent her from speaking. Her first instinct was to think that he was upset with her, but noticing that he was silently laughing quelled any of those fears.

"Are you alright?" she asked cautiously, smiling nervously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Your aim was pretty good. You should consider trying out for Lacrosse." he joked, taking his hand from his head, and smiling at her.

"Thanks, I think." Feeling the two pairs of eyes, that were no doubt looking at her and Derek from across the register. Facing the inevitable, she turned and spoke again. "Um, Derek, this is my Aunt Gee, and my cousin, Robbie." she said, anxiously. She then realized that she had little to be embarrassed about, seeing as he probably heard everything she said without her knowledge.

"Nice to meet you." he said, shaking both out stretched hands, and obviously not noticing their frighteningly wide smiles. "I hope I'm not early…" he began, looking for a clock.

Helga's eyes shot to her aunt, silently pleading to let her leave then. Catching the look from her niece, she sighed dramatically and motioned with her hand to go. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." she said, smiling excitedly, but catching herself before Derek could see. Leaning over the register to retrieve her sweatshirt and small bag (the one Lila had loaned her earlier that day, revealing that a big bag was a bad idea on a first date) and turned back to Derek.

The two bid goodbye to the only other inhabitants of the store, and walked out into the cold night. Pausing on the sidewalk to pull her sweatshirt over her head, she then followed Derek to his car. He walked in front of her, to the passenger side of the car and inserted the key into the keyhole. Helga stole a glance at his keys and noticed the small, black remote car opener and smiled, catching on to his game quickly. Once he unlocked at opened the door for her, she thanked him and slipped inside. Once he closed the door behind her, she leaned over discreetly and unlocked his door. by the time, he'd rounded the car, Helga was buckled into her seat and sitting upright again.

Derek opened his door and sat down smiling and shaking his head. Helga knew that he wouldn't come out and tell her that she passed, so she spoke first.

"I know what you were trying to do." she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"When you unlocked my door. I know what you were trying to do." she repeated. "You think I've never seen A Bronx Tale before?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I don't follow." he said, chuckling.

Turning in her seat to face Derek, Helga cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders. "Alright listen to me", she began, in a think New York accent. "You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, dump her." she quoted.

"Just like that?" Derek asked innocently, but going along with the game anyway.

"Listen to me, kid. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she's a selfish broad and all you're seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast." She finished, laughing. "My dad watched that movie with me when I was about 14, and told me if I didn't unlock a guy's door, then I should get left on the sidewalk. Ever since then, it became a habit."

"Well, I applaud you on your memorization and great taste in movies." he said, before starting up the car.

"But I have to ask, would you really have left me here if I didn't unlock your door?"

"After what I heard tonight," he started, smiling sincerely at her. "Definitely not." Before all the blood in Helga's body could rush to her face, Derek spoke again as he started the car and backed out of the parking space. "And by the way, I think you're worth more than $14.99."

Helga scrunched her nose and forehead in confusion, before realizing the constricting sensation between her eyes was her long-forgotten price sticker. Turning from Derek and feeling her nose for the white sticker, she tore it from her face and groaned in embarrassment. She eventually joined Derek in laughter, finding the whole incident comical, even if it were happening to her. She finally calmed down when Derek asked her if she wanted to listen to the radio. Shrugging her shoulders, she watched as he turned on the radio, and turned the volume up a little.

"_Shawty had them Apple Bottom jeans, boots with the fur-"_

"_Gimme, gimme more, gimme more, gimme, gimme more-"_

"_We don't have take our, clothes off-"_

Derek quickly gave up searching the radio stations for something to listen to, and turned the radio off altogether, leaving Helga's laughter as the only remaining sound in the car.

"I'm not laughing at you, I promise." she said, gasping between breaths.

"Of course not, the thought never crossed my mind." he replied, sarcastically. "Anyway, if I didn't tell you earlier, I am sorry about last night. I hope you didn't wait too long."

"I told you, it's not big deal. I wasn't up all night or anything." she said, smiling as a familiar song came to mind. "_Wondering why…_" she sang quietly to herself.

"_Things aren't getting any better…_" Derek said, singing quietly as well.

Helga's head swiveled to look at him, shocked and in somewhat disbelief of what he said. "_You look so good…" _she sang out loud, seeing if he would reply.

"_It can't be right_…" he sang back, looking right at her.

"_Tonight, let's make our dreams come true!" _They both sang out loud, before high-fiving and laughing again. Helga found herself laughing a lot around him, more than she had in the past few weeks.

"I can't believe it; nobody listens to Suburban Legends." Helga said, sitting back again in her seat.

"I know, none of my friends listen to them." he said, happily. "How about we listen to the CD on our way back?' he asked.

"Why on the way back?" Helga asked.

"Because we're here." he said, pulling up on the side of the street. Helga leaned towards him and looked out of his window, smiling at the sign above them.

* * *

And no more! Haha, don't worry, I'll be back soonish. And it's not too big of a surprise; I'm still using bits and pieces from my old version of this story, so some things are going to look mighty familiar. Song lyrics are italicized, because, then you know when they're singing or not.

If you're confused, here's the basics: Helga and Robbie are cousins. Gee, is Helga's aunt/Miriam's sister. Robbie is not Gee's son, though. He's the offspring of another one of Miriam's sisters, Diane, whom I didn't mention in this chapter, but might later. All clear? Good.

_**Art imitates Life**_ (this should be a regular segment in all my chapters):

-My dad really did watch "A Bronx Tale" with me and told me that I would get dumped if I didn't unlock a guy's door for him. Actually, he quoted the movie, and then a while later, I found out what movie it was from and we watched it together. It has yet to happen to me, but if it does, I'll be prepared.

-Gee (the name, anyway) came from my nickname in high school. I know, you're thinking "But your name is Antoinette! That doesn't have a "g" in it at all!" Yes, I'm aware of that, you genius. On one hand, the nickname "Gee" came from Georgia Nicholson, my favorite book character from the Confessions of Georgia Nicholson (great name, huh?) by Louise Rennison. Anyway, me and my friends loved the book so much, we assigned each other characters from the book, and since I have the least stable love life and the largest nose, I got to be Georgia. On the other hand, "Gee" came from my Art history classmates who called me Godiva. If you don't know what Godiva is or how it connects to me, google it and then think about me. It totally fits, trust me.

-Suburban Legends is a seriously great band. They've got the whole drums, guitar, bass thing going on, but then they have trumpets and trombones and all kinds of other fun stuff too. And their song "Up All Night", that Derek and Helga were singing, is a really nice first date song. The guy is talking to a girl he likes and saying how great they'd be together, but kind of embarrasses himself in the process. Great song.

Another great song is "Two Princes" by the Spin Doctors. And what do you know? My story over at FictionPress is called Two Princes too! Go figure! Well, since you're on the internet anyway, just pop on over there. I actually wrote a decent prologue for that story! My first! I never do that; I just jump into the first chapter blindly. So be proud.

That has to be the longest Author's note in Author's not history…it's almost as long as the chapter. Sorry about that. I'm going to visit the relatives in South Carolina, so I'll try to get some writing done while I'm gone. Have a great…remainder of the week!

-PointyO

aka

Antoinette


	10. Take Me By the Hand

****

The Compromise

Chapter Nine: Take Me By The Hand

READ: This is a very Derek-heavy chapter. So for all you Derek haters or Arnold-lovers (I know you're out there…), here's your warning. Fear not, you will get your Arnold fix next chapter, promise.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Arnold. But I do own a puppy, who is sitting in my lap and whining and making it hard to type and…never mind, he just jumped down. It's cool. On with the story.

* * *

_Knocking on the heavy glass door, Helga peered through impatiently, waiting for a reply. The small restaurant was rarely closed so early in the afternoon, but considering the evening ahead, Helga wasn't surprised that eh brothers decided to close up and prepare. When the movement from inside finally silenced and when a figure made it's way to the door to unlock it, Helga smiled eagerly. Meekly greeting the unfamiliar young man who opened the door for her, she headed towards the back of the restaurant café to find a bigger mess than expected. Break-The-Fast, as the restaurant was entitled, was relatively new tot eh area, but was also a staple among many in the community._

_The location of Break-The-Fast was a difficult one, wedged between a highway and a strip of undeveloped area of trees. When the twenty-five year-old brothers bought the building with the intention of putting up a café, they received much advice to give up and scrap the idea. Not only the concept (serving breakfast foods all day long) but the location may have been the source of most of the anticipated bad luck. The location was formerly a dry cleaners, an exotic foods market, a music store and a computer repair shop. Businesses were reluctant to settle there since no business had lasted more than three months at the location. Break-The-Fast was the first establishment to not only break the three-month record for being in business there, but was also widely successful, featuring a menu made primarily of breakfast foods. Distracted by the mess surrounding her, and wishing that she'd be able to see the results, she almost missed the two giants coming for her._

_"It's our Little Hellion!" they said in unison, kicking aside fallen streamers and half inflated balloons and enveloping Helga in an awkward three way hug. Even at '5"7, she was still only chest high to each brother, and the result was her being almost completely smothered._

_Once they released her, she felt better speaking. "I'm guessing that you're setting up for Open Mike Night?" she asked, motioning to the debris around them._

_"Yeah, it's coming along…well." Eric said, the oldest of the twins by six minutes. In addition to being extremely tall, they both wore nearly identical features: sharp jaws and cheekbones, dark eyes and long, thin noses over two sets of pearly white teeth. The differences in them fell in their personalities and habits. Eric, the older and more logical of the two, served as the voice of reason, and dealt with the numbers, finances and upkeep of the eatery. Mike was more carefree and laidback, and found it easier to deal with customers and expand their already long and creative menu. Helga could clearly see how the brothers balanced each other out, and was sometimes saddened by the fact that they served only as surrogate brothers to her._

_"Right." she said, sarcastically. "Looks more like a five year-old's birthday party exploded in here."_

_Smearing a mysterious black and red substance from his hand, Mike replied, "No. That's just my strawberry bon-bons."_

_Helga shuddered and laughed at the mess around her. "Well, I can't stay and chat. I just wanted to drop by before work and tell you guys I can't make it tonight."_

_"What?!" the shouted, once again in unison, matching looks of shock on their faces._

_"You're going to miss Open Mike Night, Hellion?" Eric asked._

_Helga smiled shyly at the affectionate nickname and nodded._

_"Does your tyrannical aunt have you working another late night, again? I know someone who's not getting any more free bagels…" Mike threatened._

_"My aunt is not a tyrant…most of the time, and no. I just…made plans." she said, hoping they wouldn't pry, but as the closest things to big brothers she had, she was certain that they would._

_"You made plans on Open Mike Night?" Eric asked, suspiciously._

_"No…well, kind of. Someone else made plans that just happened to fall on Open Mike Night."_

_Helga waited for the onslaught of questions and demands that she cancel to attend. It was almost mandatory that she attend their somewhat random Open Mike Nights. Between the impatient customers, hoards of groupies, and the torrents of egotistic musicians that flooded the small café, she was often paramount at keeping the peace. She sometimes wondered who really played the "Older Sibling" role in their friendship._

_Instead she found one face, painted with a knowing smirk, and one still marred with offense and confusion._

_"I know what's going on here." Eric said, crossing his arms and leaning his weight onto one leg._

_"What?" Helga and Mike said in unison. She noticed there was a lot of that happening that day._

_"You don't see it, Mike?" Eric asked, looking to his brother, and being met only with a look of bewilderment. "Our Little Hellion here, has a hot date tonight."_

_"What?!" Mike shouted again, this time, registering with more shock and surprise than the first._

_"I don't have a hot date tonight!" Helga exclaimed._

_"So, are you saying you don't have a _hot _date tonight, Hellion?" Eric asked, remaining calm as Helga fumed._

_"You have a date? A _hot_ date?" Mike asked, redirecting everyone's attention. Helga knew that tone of voice: he was about to switch into Paranoid Older Brother Mode. "Who is this boy? What's his criminal past? Who is his baby's mama?!"_

_"What?", Eric asked._

_"We need the scoop on this guy, Eric. I don't trust him."_

_"You don't _know _him!" Helga said, nearly having to laugh._

_"I don't need to. I know how I was at eighteen. Back then, I wouldn't trust you with me, either."_

_As Helga marveled at the level of stupidity being exhibited by her "big brother", Eric attempted to calm everyone down. "Alright, Mike, ease off. Let's give Helga a chance to explain. Helga," he began, turning to her now. "Tell us about your hot date tonight."_

_"It's not a date, and it's definitely not hot." she clarified, calming herself down. "And even if it was a date, it wouldn't be hot. Lukewarm, tepid, at best, but not hot."_

_"So you're ditching us for a tepid date?" Mike asked, sadly. Helga could tell he was only joking, but she still didn't like the thought of 'ditching' anyone._

_"I'm not ditching you guys…I promise, next Open Mike Night, wild ponies won't keep me away." she said, backing up towards the door. "And besides, you guys don't need me that badly, right?" she asked, her question met with silence. "Just make sure the groupies drink plenty of water. And don't give them any bread, because they're all a bunch of carb-counters. Bye!"_

_"Drop by after your hot date!" Mike and Eric added in unison as Helga left the restaurant._

* * *

"So you know the guys that own this place?" Derek asked, as he and Helga walked from their parking space behind Break-The-Fast.

"Yeah, they're like my big brothers." she said. "They'll be happy we came here, though."

"Why is that?"

"I dropped by earlier, and told them I wouldn't be able to make it." she said, conveniently leaving out the accusations of a "hot date".

Derek laughed quietly to himself. "Let me guess what happened next: they went into Big Brother Mode, right?"

"Yeah…" Helga said, happy that she wouldn't have to sit through an awkward interrogation upon seeing Eric and Mike for the second time that day. "Do you have big brothers, or something?"

"No. I'm an only child. But I have a cousin. She's fourteen, and I find myself wanting to attack any guy that comes within three feet of her." he said, smiling. "It's a hard habit to break, but they must be good guys if they care about you so much."

Helga nodded and smiled, walking up the sidewalk as the glass doors came into her view. "Yeah, they are really good guys."

"I'll admit, I can get a little paranoid sometimes. Once, I actually asked a thirteen year-old about his 'criminal background'."

"That's exactly what they asked about you!" Helga said, catching her words a split-second after she spoke them. Not only had she revealed the level of sanity (or lack thereof) in her surrogate brothers, but she also admitted to have been talking about him for the second time that day.

"They asked about my criminal record?" When Helga nodded, clearly embarrassed, he continued. "Any other probing questions they had for me?"

She was, at first reluctant to reply, but upon seeing the look in his eye, reading that he was not easily offended, she answered, "They wanted to know if you had any baby's mamas." She attempted to keep a straight face, but burst into laughter upon completing the sentence, glad that he cold take a joke.

"Well, as far as I know, I have no criminal record, and no baby's mamas." he joked as the two, along with others who were walking behind them, entered the restaurant. The front room of the restaurant was laid out very simply; a counter for the wide array of coffees, teas and other hot drinks that were offered and an open sitting area, decorated with couches, chairs, stools and sofas that didn't match at all. The left was a winding hallway that led to the restrooms and back door. To the right was also a winding hallway, but this one led to the back part of Break-The-Fast, where the seating area was much more open and spaced out. The seating area had several platforms, and like the front of the house, was littered with mix-and-matched, but otherwise comfortable chairs and sofas. The highest platform was against the back wall, and served as a stage for Open Mike Nights.

Helga was impressed with the amount of work that they were able to get done in the time since she'd visited. She'd only seen the front room, which was now devoid of any mess at all, and all signs of a party were moved to the back. She surmised that the front of the house would be reserved for people who didn't want to talk over the commotion in the back. She shed her coat, and Derek followed suit as they made their way to the back.

Squeezing their way down the narrow corridor and to the back of the restaurant, Helga smiled at the familiarity of it. The back of the house was dimly lit, giving it the appearance of a bar filled with smokers, even though the brothers forbade anyone from smoking on the premises. Along the walls and ceilings hung various posters from concerts, some that the brothers had gone to themselves, and others that were donated by frequent customers and older patrons. There were still a few balloons and streamers littered her and there but Helga was glad that they abandoned the "five year-old's birthday party" theme they had going for a while.

Before she could comment on the state of the room to Derek, she was nearly deafened by the deep voices that were suddenly in her ear, drowning out all sound around them. Once the four arms clumsily wrapped themselves around her, she had no doubts as to who was shouting at her. Once released, she attempted to speak, but was bombarded with questions.

"You came!"

"How was the hot date?"

"It's over already?"

"Did you leave him?"

"Did he do something to upset you?"

"Did you bring him?"

"Should I call the police?"

"Where'd he take you?"

"What's the number for 911?!"

Locking her jaw, Helga willed herself not to scream, and only hoped that Derek was far enough behind her or was too distracted to hear the flood of questions aimed at her, that were, inevitably, about him. Widening her eyes, she gave Eric and Mike a look that clearly told them to be quiet, but both were too oblivious to her to notice.

Helga waited until the two decided to stop speaking before motioning behind her awkwardly towards Derek. "Guys, this is Derek, Derek these are...the guys." she said, looking anywhere but at the people she was speaking to. The hand that motioned to Derek was soon behind her head, scratching the back of her neck. She noticed it immediately as a nervous trait she picked up from Arnold, and dropped her arm to her side. Helga refused to let her mind wander too far into the territory. Things were awkward enough without her mind thinking about Arnold all night and wondering if she were betraying him or not.

Eric politely shook Derek's hand, smiling cordially and making small talk. Mike narrowed his gaze suspiciously and shook his hand as well, but Helga could tell his grip was firmer than usual. She was glad, at least, that Derek was taking it well, or so it seemed.

"So have you ever been here before?" Eric asked, attempting to lighten the tension between the four of them.

"Actually, yeah, I have. I know some of the guys performing tonight." Derek replied.

Helga's head turned. She wasn't aware this was an actual "planned" date. She figured that he threw it together last minute or something. She questioned whether or not he asked her because he really wanted her to, or if his friend's band just wanted more people to see them.

"I thought you looked familiar…", Eric began, twisting his mouth and thinking hard. "Oh, right! You're the guy from-"

"Yup." Derek said, smiling, and throwing a sideways glance at Helga to see if she was suspicious.

"But I thought-"

"Change of plans." he said, holding up his bandaged thumb.

"So you're going to-", Eric began again, putting the pieces together.

"Yup."

"And she doesn't-"

"Nope." Derek said, smiling wider.

"And…so, it's just…" Eric started again, pausing to figure things out. He eventually smiled and extended his hand towards Derek again. When Derek took it, he said confidently, "Nice job, man. Really, she'll love it."

When Derek and Eric split, they turned toward Helga and Mike to find looks of bewilderment painted on both of their faces. They'd been silent during the entire exchange, and found themselves profoundly confused by it all.

"You'll find out later." Derek promised, playfully placing his hand on Helga's arm.

Knowing that Helga (or Mike, at that point) was about to drill him, Eric broke the tension once again. "So, what'll you guys have tonight? It's on the house." he threw in, taking their coats and smiling in Derek's direction again.

Helga caught each look the two exchanged, but didn't push the issue. Smiling despite her skepticism, she replied. "I'll have the usual."

"And you?" Eric asked, not bothering to write it down, knowing that if he forgot (which was unlikely), then Mike would undoubtedly remember.

"Um…I'm not sure…" Derek said, looking from each brother to Helga, hoping for a hint.

Helga mimicked his earlier gesture and placed her hand sympathetically on his arm. "We'll have two of the usual." she answered knowingly.

"Be right back." Eric said, dragging his twin brother behind him, who decided to begin asking questions just as they were out of earshot of Helga and Derek.

The pair found an open seat on a sofa with pillows that (obviously) did not match and sat down, waiting for the show to start. Helga sat down sideways, one leg tucked underneath her and the other hanging off of the side of the sofa. Derek sat sideways as well, the two facing one another.

Feeling more at ease than she anticipated, Helga smiled and endeavored to start a conversation, something she hadn't really had to do since meeting Derek. "So what was that all about?"

"Why Helga, I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about." he replied, placing his hand over his heart dramatically.

"Come on, that thing with Eric. What did you plan with him?" she asked, quirking her head to the side.

"I didn't plan a single thing with Eric." he said, straight-faced.

"Well, what did you plan that Eric has knowledge of?"

Derek paused, smirking at her from across the couch. "You're one of those people who are really hard to surprise, aren't you?" he asked.

"Pretty much. Spill." she replied quickly.

Derek didn't say anything else; making the motion of zipping up his mouth and throwing an imaginary key to the side, and shaking his head.

Before Helga could pout and demand an answer from him, Mike showed up, balancing two small plates in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. He came around to the side of the sofa, and set everything down in front of them, on top of an old, faded coffee table.

"You guys enjoy." Mike said, calmly, before heading back to the kitchen. Helga was surprised at his calm behavior; a few moments ago, he was as worked up as she was. _'Eric must have filled him in._' she surmised to herself, slightly frustrated that everyone knew what was going on besides her. Her anger was quelled when she noticed the food in front of her. Lifting her plate to her lap, and waving her hand over it to cool it off, she nearly forgot that Derek was there and shifted her eyes to look at him. He too had moved his plate to his lap, but had yet to touch it. He was just sitting there…looking at it.

"Everything okay over there?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just…I don't know what 'the usual' is." he replied, smiling back up at her, so she'd know that he wasn't offended.

"Oh, sorry!" Helga apologized, not realizing that she'd ordered for the both of them. "My friends hate it when I do that."

"It's alright. I'll just remember to order for you the next time we go out." he said, smiling at Helga's faint blush.

Looking away suddenly, Helga attempted to speak again. "Right, um, those," she began, pointing to the small circles of dough on his plate. "Those are Mike's famous cranberry-walnut mini-pancakes. And with it, he serves this amazing syrup, that is rumored to tapped from his very own tree, but I wouldn't believe that if I were you."

Derek smiled at the eased at which she spoke to him. If she wasn't nervous, then he certainly was. "And what's that?" he asked, pointing towards the shot glasses in front of them.

"Oh, that's just plain orange juice. I think he puts it in shot glasses so it looks cooler." she answered. Helga silently hoped that the lights would get dim soon, so she could stop prattling on about food. "So when are you going to tell me what this big surprise is?" she asked, without really asking.

"It's really not that big of a surprise." Derek stated, picking up his shot glass, and immediately setting it down when he realized how his remark sounded. "Not that it's not, you know, nice or anything. It's nice…I think it's nice. It's kind of…" he said, drifting off as the lights over them began to dim, signaling the beginning of the acts. Both Der and Helga sighed inwardly, glad that they no longer had to initiate small talk or stumble over their words.

The first few acts were average if anything. A few disgruntled art students gave monologues and disjointed sentences that some may have deemed poetry, while a band that looked too young to apply for a driver's license banged their drums and jumped around, and ended with their guitarist hitting himself in the head with his microphone. Helga and Derek spoke briefly between the short intermissions when one act followed another, and found it much easier than attempting to form a long conversation. They laughed when a comedian impersonated celebrities, and sat wide-eyed and silent, when a dark-haired girl monologue for ten minutes about how taco-flavored corn chips found her the love of her life. Every once and awhile, however, Helga would notice Derek staring at his watch, or looking curiously around the dusky room, as if waiting for something or looking for someone. She momentarily feared that he really was setting her up with his cousin, and slumped lower on the couch. She looked up, only when he leaned over, far enough away so that she didn't feel as though her personal space was being invaded, but close enough so that she could hear him above the other chatter in the room.

"My friends are coming up next." he said, eagerly.

Helga smiled in response, and watched as five or so guys came out on the small stage, carrying microphone stands, instruments, and the like. They set up relatively quickly, no doubt prepared to perform. One of the guys, with somewhat shaggy, brown hair, sat down on a piano stool and adjusted the microphone in front of him.

"Good evening, everybody." he said, waving to the audience, who, by that time in the evening, were somewhat bored, neglected to wave back. "Either way, I'm Jon, and behind me is Dan, Mikey, Jessie, Louis and Jay. We call ourselves Walk the Plank, and we hope you enjoy." He said, looking down at the keyboard in front of him. Just as he was about to start, he paused and spoke into the mike again.

"Before we start, I'd like to dedicate this performance to a good friend of ours who couldn't be with us tonight. But we know he's looking down on us, smiling. That, or he could be cringing from horror." he said, laughing. Some of the audience smiled along with him, and others were confused as to why he was laughing about a friend who was, supposedly, dead. Helga watched in curiosity, ignoring the look of shock that graced Derek's face.

_This _was not how he planned the evening.

"Relax, kids, our dear friend, is anything but six feet under. In fact, he's right over there. On that couch. Stand up for us, buddy." he said, pointing right at Helga.

Her eyes immediately widened; confused as to why a complete stranger was calling her his 'buddy'. She relaxed, however, when the makeshift spotlight, that Eric and Mike rarely, if ever used, was pointed, in her direction, but not right at her. She looked to her side, finding Derek bathed in a bright light, and looking positively embarrassed. At first, she pitied him, but eventually, joined the crowd in the applause and laughter. Her grin only got wider when he ran an open palm down his face, and stood up, waving to his friends on stage.

"Ladies and gentleman, this is our friend Derek." Jon said, to a chorus of yells and cat calls from the females in the audience.

Helga nearly let her mouth hang open in offense, but stopped herself in time. Could these 'ladies' not realize that he was on an almost date with _her_? She was glad, at least, when he sat down next to her, still smiling and blushing from embarrassment, and draped his arm casually over the side of the couch and as a result, around her shoulders.

"Funny story about our friend Derek here; he was _supposed _to be on stage with us tonight. But he had himself a little accident, and can't join us." Derek hoped that his friend would end his 'funny story' there, but much to his chagrin, he did not.

"Derek sometimes fills in to play keyboard for us, so when we called him a few days ago, he was all for it. He even told us of a young lady he'd be inviting to the show. And if he actually got up the nerve to ask her out, as opposed to talking about her for hours, I'm going to assume that's her sitting next to him."

Helga sat mortified as the spotlight, literally, moved from Derek to herself. Enveloped in the same bright light that Derek was, not a few moments ago, Helga suddenly saw the situation as anything but funny. Her face fell further when Jon asked her to stand up as well. Shooting a glance at Derek, she found him smiling apologetically, but laughing nonetheless. She smiled nervously, bowing her head and stood up for a split-second, before sinking back down onto the couch.

"Oh Derek, you did her no justice. She's far lovelier than you described." Jon said, still smiling, not realizing the humiliation he was putting his friend through. "Anyway, Derek was supposed to play keyboard for us tonight, but as I said, he had an accident. As I remember, he was attempting to impress this girl, whose name escapes me, and, of course, he goes and breaks his finger."

The audience around them laughed, and Jon waited until it died down before going on. "What's worse, is that Derek here, didn't bring it to his coach's attention until after she left the field. So, I figured that if he liked her enough to get injured, that we could do something nice for them. So, forgive the weak keyboard skills; I'm still learning. This one goes out to Derek and…" he said drifting off, trying to remember Helga's name. "Hey, D!" he called into the audience, but particularly at Derek. "What's your date's name?"

Derek was too stunned to reply, and switched between mumbling something incoherent to himself and looking at Helga nervously. She too was silent; refusing to shout out her name to a room full of people who would already know who she was by the end of the band's performance. She was thankful, at least, for the fact that, aside for Derek, that no one knew her name.

However, she internally ignored the source of the twin voices that called her name from the side of the stage, all to happy to go along with the game.

"It's Helga!" Eric and Mike shouted, grinning like fools. Helga made sure to give them both a piece of her mind when this was all over.

"Derek and Helga…has a ring to it. Anyway, this for you guys. Enjoy." he said, moving his stool and adjusting the microphone a little more. Testing the keyboard keys, he struck a few before playing.

__

"Hats need a beak,

like awake needs asleep.

Like a pen needs a page,

To learn right you need a mistake."

Still suffering from the aftershocks of everything that transpired over the past few minutes, Helga tried to concentrate on the singer's voice, the music, the Led Zepplin poster to her right; virtually anything but her extreme embarrassment. Her mind began reciting choice words and phrases from the moments that passed:

__

"…got up the nerve to ask her out…"

"…talking about her for hours…"

"…attempting to impress this girl…"

In any other scenario, Helga would have been deeply embarrassed, and relatively upset. She refused to be easily wooed by pretty words, or flattered by gossamer compliments; she'd seen far too many girls lose their sanity (among other things) to such wiles and left heartbroken. But there was a sincerity to Derek that she could not shake, and from the words of his friend, his pursuit of her, awkward and slightly problematic as it was, proved to be sweet, and, from what she could see, genuine.

__

Hearts need a mind,

Like a clock needs the time.

Like white needs black,

If you leave I hope you need to come back.

If, by some chance, everything that Jon said was true, then here was a distinct possibility that Derek actually liked her. Scarier than that, she was already trying to figure out why and to what capacity she liked him. Scarier, even, than that, was that if this was indeed true, then Lila was actually right about something.

__

"If I know anything, he was probably running around that field, trying to impress you, and broke his finger, but didn't say anything until you left the field so that you'd think he was…macho or something."

Nevertheless, Helga was smart. She knew better than to attempt to ease Derek's discomfort with the situation. Despite how sweet, how genuine, how Orlando-Bloom-in-the-second-Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-movie a guy is, the fact still remains: they have egos, and will go to great lengths to protect them. So she sat quietly, still tucked somewhat under Derek's arm, knowing that he had to make the first move in an endeavor to quell his own nervousness.

__

You've got so much love in you,

You've got so much love in you.

I'm amazed that I'm talkin' to you,

You look like the songs that I've heard my whole life coming true.

Once Helga resolved her mind that the situation was out of her hands, she actually listened to the music and started to loosen up. She made a mental note to ask the band what the song was called, after she finished beating the lead singer to a pulp. She sighed, letting the tension in her shoulders go, and leaning back a bit. She was surprised then, when Derek's arm, slowly and purposefully, slid from behind her to rest at his side.

"Did I say 'pulp'?" Helga thought, clearly upset. "I meant bloody, shriveled pulp that no one would ever recognize. Thanks a lot, Jon."

Trying not to look too dejected, Helga tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and let her gaze drift to the opposite wall. She was about to pull her hands into her lap when something warm surround her left hand, holding it in place against the soft couch. Following the hand that enclosed her, up to Derek's face, her shoulders fell again, noticing his remorseful smile still on his face.

"I'm sorry." he mouthed, still latched onto her hand.

Smiling in response, she mouthed her reply. "It's okay."

__

You've got so much love in you,

You've got so much love in you.

I'm amazed that I'm talkin' to you,

You look like the songs that I've heard my whole life coming true.

Seeing his own anxiety fall away, made it easier for Helga to enjoy the show without her own worries getting in the way. She resolved that for the rest of the evening, she would simply relax. There would be no more nervous thoughts of Arnold, or how she was going to tell Lila that she was actually right about something. She wanted to have a good time, and focused on using the rest of the night to do so.

Unfortunately, the 'rest of the night' lasted a whole of 32 seconds. Because after the round of applause (which, much to Helga's dismay, separated her hand from Derek's) and the clearing of the band from the stage, the lights above the crowd brightened, signaling the end of Open Mike Night.

Helga found herself slightly disappointed; a feeling she usually got when at the end of a movie, the villan decides to give up a life of crime to become a model citizen. Part of her disappointment, however, was in herself, not letting her guard down so that she could have some fun. She was again surprised, when, upon standing up, Derek grasped her hand again, commanding her attention.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It's just…we didn't get to talk much, and I was hoping that we could sit a while and…talk."

"Okay." Helga replied, forgetting that there was no dim lighting to hide the blush that spread across her nose, as she followed Derek down the wide stairs to the stage.

* * *

An hour or so later, the pair sat , alone in the room, on the stage facing each other and laughing. They exchanged jokes, stories from their childhood; cleverly avoiding the subject that was on both of their minds. It was only when Helga noticed Eric and Mike standing in the entrance of the hallway, that there was a lull in their conversation.

"Are you guys closing up?" Helga asked, turning around.

"Sorta. The front of the house is pretty much empty." Eric replied, putting no pressure on them to leave.

"I'll go get our coats." Derek said, hopping off of the stage, and moving past Eric and Mike into the dark hallway.

"Have fun tonight, Little Hellion?" they asked, in unison.

Glaring at her friends, Helga answered, feigning annoyance. "I probably would have had a better time, had two individuals not shouted my name to a room full of strangers."

"Oh come off it, you loved that." Mike said, taking his weight off of the doorframe.

"Admit it, Hellion," Eric started, chiming in. "That was pretty sweet."

Rolling her eyes, Helga turned back from the twins, attempting to look more upset than she was. The two approached the stage, and stood on either side of her. "Don't be mad, Hellion," Eric started again. "He seems like a nice guy, and obviously went through a lot of trouble."

"And, he doesn't have a baby's mama, so that a plus, right?" Mike asked. Helga broke her resolve and laughed at Mike's comment, as he expected.

"We'll see you guys later." Eric said, brushing off his brother's question. The brothers surrounded her in another hug, this one less awkward than the last, as she was sitting higher than she usually stood. Turning back around to face the door, she watched as the brother left, and overheard them bid Derek a goodnight as well, before he appeared in the doorway.

"Ready to go?" he asked, ushering her towards him, and holding her coat open for her. He started towards the front entrance, but she motioned further down the hallway to back exit that led loser to his car. Proving that his acts of chivalry were far from over, he opened the passenger door for her (after automatically unlocking all four doors, convinced that she would unlock his for him anyway), and climbed in the other side.

Helga leaned back in her seat, and smiled as the car quickly warmed up. The car ride to her home was silent, and both were pleased that it was a comfortable silence that neither of them would have to struggle to fill. It took him only a few minutes to reach her house, remembering the route from earlier in the week. Pulling into the street, he purposely parked a few houses down from hers, shut off the car and quickly exited. When he opened her door for her, Helga shot him a questioning glance and asked why he chose to park.

"I feel much more comfortable walking you to your door. That way, if a robber or something decides to jump you, I'll already be outside of the car." he said, as though stating the obvious. Helga's response was to shake her head and smile, while lifting herself out of the car. Derek shut the door behind her and shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked beside one another.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." Helga said, the slight breeze spreading a chill over her face.

"Even after…" Derek said, hinting at what he couldn't quite bear to say.

"Yeah. Even after all that." Helga finished. "It was...nice, actually. A little unorthodox, but still very sweet."

Derek smiled to himself, happy that she didn't think he was crazy for talking about her to his friends. "So, you forgive me for ditching you last night?" he joked.

"Sure, you're forgiven." Helga said, approaching her steps.

Derek took a deep breath. "So…maybe next time, we can just go, for fun." he said, _almost _asking her.

"Depends…where are we going next time?" she asked, in her subtle, yet obvious way of letting Derek know she was indeed interested in another date.

Stepping to the step she was standing on, Derek brought his face down to hers, planting a chaste kiss on the patch of skin between her nose and eye, where her sprinkle of cinnamon freckles were most abundant. "I'll let you know tomorrow." he said, before turning back towards the walkway and finally his car. "Goodnight Helga."

Helga waited until he walked away to tug at the storm door to her house. When she pulled it, however, she found it either locked or jammed, and decided to pull harder. Her parents never issued a key for the storm door, as the family never locked it. Her final pull was hard enough to open the door; so much so that it literally flew open, and hit her on the bridge of her nose. Crying out, Helga stumbled backwards, feeling for the wall of her stoop. By that time, however, she could feel herself falling further backwards and a rush of fear overtook her as she anticipated meeting the hard concrete below her.

When she finally did land, a second or so later, she was shocked to find, not the grey cement of the sidewalk underneath her, but a stack of newspapers inside of a bright yellow bin. For a split-second, she let her head fall back in relief; even if she had hit herself in the nose with a door, and fell backwards off of her stoop into her recycling bin full of newspapers, she was at least happy that Derek was long gone.

That is, until the erratic footsteps came to a stop just to the left of her.

"Are you okay?!' he asked, scared that she seriously hurt herself.

Helga smiled weakly, letting him know that it was only her ego (and quite possibly her hip) that was bruised. "Oh, I'm…fine. Just sitting in my recycling bin." she joked.

"Are you sure? I thought I heard you scream and then fall from your doorstep." he said, still concerned, and offering his hand to help her up.

"Oh, yeah…about that…I'm trying to…go green. Gotta love Mother Earth." she said, taking his hand and standing up straight. She cracked her back and rolled her neck once to loosen her joints. "I'm usually not this clumsy, I promise." she said, slowly walking up her steps to prove that she was at least somewhat coordinated.

"I hope so. Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." she said, putting her hand on her doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked. "See you tomorrow." she said, hoping he didn't notice the color that enveloped her entire face as she slipped in the door.

Locking it behind her, she leaned on the doorframe and open-hand smacked herself on the forehead. "I'm a complete idiot." she said, lazily walking upstairs. Up in her room, her tiny pig, Strudel, sat on her bed, half asleep; opening one eye as she changed into her pajamas. Lifting the tiny animal, Helga placed her on the foot of the bed, (although it was almost certain she'd just scramble back up near Helga's head) and got under the covers. She was unconcerned with confronting Arnold in the morning. That night she learned to let things happen and hope for the best.

* * *

I did it! I did it! That was a crazy long chapter, man. Lots of things to include: new characters, new settings. It's all good though. And I got a little crazy with the italics up there...sorry. Okay, on to everyone's favorite segment:

_AIL/Art Imitates Life:_

-I do have two older, surrogate brothers, whom Eric and Mike are based off of. One is kind of serious, and really smart, and the other is a total goofball. Unfortunately, they're not twins, but they're crazy-protective of me (especially the one based off of Mike...he proabably would ask me if a guy I liked had a baby's mama...) and I love them lots.

-"Break-the-Fast" was inspired by a coffee shop that I went to about a year ago…it didn't have a back room with a stage, but the owner's had this party (actually, some friends rented it out) and a band played, and it was lots of fun. I drew out the floor plans, so I could describe it better, and it's pretty cool.

This isn't AIL related, but I am taking a Drawing 2/3 class, and one assignment (each week) is to show our sketchbooks to our professor. Anyway, sometimes, when I get a burst of inspiration, especially for Compromise, I just write it down in my sketchbook. So today, when my teacher went around to check them out, I was so focused on trying to correctly draw the model's head, that I didn't notice that she had my sketchbook for a good 10 minutes. And when class was over, she said, "Nice drawings today Antoinette. You're getting better." and before I can thank her, she says, "Oh, and I love that story in your sketchbook. I liked it when the girl fell off her porch." And for a minute, I was kind of paranoid, but now I just see it as spreading some H/A love all around the globe.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

-PointyObjects


	11. Let's Compromise

The Compromise

Chapter 10: Let's Compromise

__

"Fading with the color you see in my face,

Coding crystals you cant hide as your tears race,

I'll be waiting by in time, put your dreams away,

You're holding hope open for the one making you wait."

Cut Copy

"Lights and Music"

* * *

"That was some ruckus last night."

Helga peered up from her cold breakfast of cereal and a near-rotten banana, and glanced at her father. She was fully aware of what he was talking about, but decided to string him along for a bit. She continued eating, and nearly smiled when he cleared his throat to urge her to speak.

"Sounded like some squirrels got into the trash again. You wouldn't happen to know anything about hat, now would you?" he asked, directing the question at his younger daughter.

Sitting up straight, Helga finally looked at her father in the face. She was used to the occasional and seemingly genuine concern that came from Miriam, but this was a new feat for Bob. As much as she wanted such attention in her childhood, after both of her parents decided to take full time jobs, Helga grew accustomed to her new role and the rarely seen or heard child of the Pataki's, and lived it out with little to no complaint.

Standing up, she made her way around the small kitchen, disposing of her banana peel and placing her empty bowl in the sink. Standing next to her father, but facing int the opposite direction, Helga spoke.

"I fell in the recycling bin last night."

"Come again?" Bob asked, and Helga was surprised at the swiftness with which he replied. She was almost certain that little could surprise her father at his age.

"I fell into the recycling bin last night." she repeated. She doubted that she would have to explain further, hoping that her parents wouldn't jump to any conclusions, but knowing in the back of her mind that they may have done so already.

"That all?" he asked. Helga should have seen it coming. The phrase "That all?", was Bob-speak for "That had better be all…", successfully ending the conversation before it go too bad, or before he heard anything that would severely disappoint him. He had yet to feel that way about either of his girls, but kept the expression around, just to be safe.

"Yup." Helga answered, lifting her backpack onto the kitchen counter , and pretending to rummage around in it. Now that her father was done with his interrogation, she could begin her own. Almost as if planned, Miriam entered the dining area, wearing a stately gray and white business suit and black pumps. She smiled to greet Helga and directed her gaze back to the white, stapled papers in her hand.

"So…" she began, in a voice as nonchalant as she could make it. "What's the plan for Saturday?"

Bob spoke up first. "I'm flying out to Memphis tonight. There's a whole plot of land out there,. And I know just what to do with it." he said, a grin making its way onto his face.

"Oh, and I have a meeting with Skinner, Vygotsky and Bronfenbrenner that night. I might not get back in until midnight or so." Miriam said, straightening her files and placing them in her black, leather briefcase.

Helga twisted her mouth, attempting to keep any signs of disappointment from her face. Saturday night in the Pataki household was far from anything resembling a "Family Night"; it was actually the one night of the week wherein everyone inhabiting the house _always _had something to do. But the fact that she'd informed them of her plans several weeks ago made her anticipate some kind of interest.

"Why do you ask, dear? What are your plans for the weekend?" Miriam asked, pausing in her motions.

"Oh, not much. I'll probably hang out with Phoebe, or study, or something…" she answered back.

"Well, make sure to be in by eleven. I'll call home if I won't be home until later." Helga nodded in reply, and swung her bags over her shoulder.

"Gotta go." she said quietly, leaving the house and allowing the door to slam behind her. Shaking her head, she laughed to herself, realizing that it took her parents a whole of four minutes to go from interrogating her to forgetting yet another important night.

She only had a few seconds to stew in her own anger, as she was met with her cousin, leaning casually against her car, parked directly in front of her home.

"It must be some kind of holiday or something…Amazing Cousins Day…", Robbie said, pushing himself off of her car and towards Helga. "I mean, honestly, since when do I do anything nice for anyone, let alone you?"

"Never. You _never _do anything nice, for anyone, let alone me. What's the deal?" she asked, playing along.

"Well, _somebody _left their car in front of the store last night, and since I now where this _somebody _lives, I thought I'd bring it to their residence, so _somebody _doesn't get their tires stolen."

"Why Robert Ann, what a charming young man you've become." Helga joked, placing her hand over her heart.

"My middle name is Andrew, if you must use it at all. Get in the car before I change my mind about driving you to school." he said, opening the door for her and rounding the car.

"Thanks." Helga said, depositing her bags in the back seat and hopping in.

Robbie got in the other side, and started the car. "No problem, _Geraldine_." she said, smirking wickedly.

"Ouch, low blow." Helga said, scrunching up her face in mock-anger.

Robbie turned out of Helga's street and onto a wider, main road. "So why'd you look so upset when you came out of your house just now?" he asked, sincerely.

"Bob and Miriam can't make it Saturday." she stated.

"Can't make it, or flat out forgot?" he asked, tentatively, hoping the question wouldn't upset Helga.

"Flat out forgot."

"Sorry. I'd make it if I could, but I'm covering _somebody's _shift that day-"

"Don't start with the somebody stuff, Mister." Helga said, waving her finger threateningly in his face and laughing. "It's no big deal, really."

"Well, did you at least have a good time last night?" he asked, grasping at straws by this point. As fun as it was for him to annoy Helga, he didn't like seeing her genuinely upset over anything.

"I guess." she replied, simply, Knowing her cousin would ask for more. "Derek's really nice, and really sweet. But, I'm not sure-"

"If you like him more than the other guy? What's his name, again? Arnold?" he asked, knowing the answer anyway.

"Yeah. It's not that I don't like Arnold or want to be his friend, I just don't know how I feel about Derek in comparison."

"Who says you have to compare them? If the guy is decent, and doesn't smell bad or anything completely unbearable, then you should probably take a chance." Robbie suggested.

"I guess you're right." Helga said. "After all, you smell bad and you're unbearable, and I still like you. Derek can't be much worse." she joked.

"Ha ha ah…you're so funny." he said unenthusiastically, pulling up the front of the school.

"Thanks for the ride." she said, opening her door and stepping out. Once her things were free from the back seat, she leaned over the opened passenger side mirror.

"You're welcome. And remember what I said. Take a chance." he reminded her.

"Will do." she said, turning away from the car. Before Robbie could pull away from the curb, Helga whirled around, confused. "Are you going to drive my car home?'

"Duh. What do expect me to do, walk?" he asked.

"Well, how am _I_ supposed to get home?"

Before speeding away, he smiled and replied, "Walk."

Helga merely furrowed her brow at the image of her car disappearing away from her, and turned back tot the school, realizing she really would have to walk home from school that day. She was unaware, however, of the pair of brown eyes, taking in the scene from far off on the campus. Close enough to see what had transpired, but distant enough to misinterpret the entire incident.

* * *

The class was anything but riveting. The darkroom was closed for the day, preventing students from developing any of their photos. And the building lacked an adequate heating system, making it one of the coldest buildings on campus.

But Arnold was silently fuming for different, unrelated reasons.

Before class started, Arnold searched through his notebook and locker, generating a healthy crop of pictures, negatives and contact sheets, all of which were spead out on his side of the desk. He rarely shared the desk with anyone, but hoped that today was different. When Derek did enter the classroom and took the seat next to him, it took Arnold everything in him not to burst into hysterical and maniacal laughter.

In reality, the photos, and other paraphernalia weren't much to be proud of. Most of the prints were either too dark, or too light, the contact sheets were printed without enough contrast and some of the photo paper had been underexposed or weren't developed properly. In all, only a few sheets of the paper that littered Arnold's half of the long, black table were even worth anything. Aside from being painfully mediocre, each item had one thing in common:

They were nearly all of Helga.

Most of the photos were from the rolls of film he used during the summer, where his objective was to capture summer, and Helga took up the assignment of his apprentice. The photos were developed in his makeshift darkroom in the boarding house, but light often filtered in, or one of the boarders would mix up his chemicals accidentally, and he soon abandoned it for the ones at school.

Regardless, Arnold placed the photos on his desk, hoping to get some kind of reaction from Derek. He told himself that this was a test, to see if Derek could handle he and Helga's close friendship, and that in the end, it was for her. That's what he told himself.

In truth, Arnold was hoping that the realization that he and Helga were close would make Derek back off a little. Or back off entirely. As a guy, he figured that this (among many, many other things) was just something else that made boys and girls different. As a guy, he found that he could hang out with a girl, even flirt with one, without forgetting his friends. Even when he had to "reschedule" his plans in favor for someone of the fairer sex, he still knew that his friends always came first. No girl could change that.

But, despite the number of tackles Helga could take or dish out during a game of _touch _football, Arnold was still very aware that she was a girl. He'd seen it happen before. Girls could get starry-eyed and idealistically inclined and swept off their feet. And that's what Arnold probably feared the most. That Helga would become all of those things, and in an instant, she would forget all about her friends. In an instant, she would forget all about him.

Unfortunately for Arnold, Derek had been sitting next him for nearly forty-three minutes and had yet so even glance at the desk, let alone the photos he displayed. He instead, kept his gaze forward, not on the teacher, but on some empty space on the wall.

Arnold nearly packed up all his things, and declared the mission a failure, until Derek spoke, waking him from his stupor.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered, even though their professor was hard of hearing and no one would have cared if they were talking anyway.

"Sure." Arnold replied, casually.

"Do you happen to know a Helga? Helga Pataki?"

Arnold kept his smile discreet, even though internally, it was as wide as the Grinch's. He mentally scolded himself for being so devious in the first place, but thought it better to stay on task and be a moral citizen later.

"Yeah, we've been friends since grade school." he said. '_Yeah, if 'friends' means that she bullied you, before the two of you became friends, and then last year you became 'almost more than friends' but now _he's_ here, and now you don't know what you are…_' his conscience chided angrily.

"Oh." Derek said, dropping his shoulders slightly. Before Arnold could inwardly celebrate his victory, Derek asked another question.

"Do you know if she has a boyfriend?"

Arnold couldn't hide the shock that registered on his face. The fact that Derek was asking him was only a minor surprise, but the realization that followed it is what really kicked him in the teeth. If Derek was asking _him _if Helga had a boyfriend, then that only meant that there was someone else that Derek had to worry about, leaving Arnold further out of the loop than he imagined.

"Not that I know of." he answered, truthfully. "Why?"

Leaning forward again, Derek started to whisper. "I saw her getting out of a car with some guy this morning. He was tall, dark hair, and looked older, so I figured he didn't go to this school." he said, sounding clearly dejected.

Arnold's shoulder dropped with slight relief at the image that Derek's description yielded. In the past year, he had little interaction with Helga's cousin, but knew him well enough to figure that it was he who gave Helga a ride to school, and not some, older boyfriend.

"Did you happen to ask her about it?" Arnold asked.

"No; I showed up late to the English Office so I wouldn't have to ask, and when I saw her earlier, I still didn't say anything." Derek admitted.

What plagued Arnold, by that point, was whether or not he wanted to tell Derek that Robbie was Helga's cousin, and nothing more. His initial response was to shrug his shoulders and mutter a nonchalant "Oh well." but something kept him from doing so. Seeing Derek looking truly upset over the thought of Helga with someone else made him think that he'd already passed the "test" that Arnold had every intention of rendering. But the thought of Helga ditching him, or any of her other friends for a guy still unnerved him.

Finally realizing, after a few more moments of silence, that the decision was Helga's to make, Arnold answered, keeping his eyes trained on the textbook in front of him. "I'm pretty sure that was her cousin you saw. He lives in the area, and sometimes gives her rides." he added, for good measure.

Arnold didn't look up in reply to Derek's eager 'Thanks', or to react to the door closing quietly. He remained quiet when the professor announced their homework and wondered out loud where "Mr. Bailey " had gone off to. He stayed seated even when the bell rang, announcing the end of the class, hoping that his decision to let Helga make her own decision was in itself, the right decision.

* * *

Walking in to the Dance Studio, Helga was aware of two things: 1) Leslie Robbins was in no mood to put up with anyone's crap, and 2) Neither was she. So, instead of entering the room, late as she was, and antagonizing Leslie as she usually did, Helga sat down toward the back of the room, where the girls sat down on the flooring and kept her mouth shut.

Leslie, on the other hand, decided to take another route.

"Well, it seems as though Pataki has no sense of punctuality." she commented, from in front of the classroom, standing in front of the girls like a dictator.

"So not in the mood." she remarked, loud enough for Leslie to hear.

"Like I care." she replied, before pacing in front of everyone. "As I was saying, this Company is an absolute disgrace. You're all out of shape and lazy, and I've taken it upon myself to change that. Instead of practice, we're going to run laps. Again."

The rest of the girls groaned in reply, but stopped when Leslie shot them all glares. "And this time, we're not going to do a mile around the tracks." Before the girls could breathe a sigh of relief, Leslie popped their newborn and eager bubble. "We're doing two miles; four times around the school campus. Meet me at the flagpole in five minutes so I can time you." she said, heading to the opposite side of the classroom to retrieve her belongings, that she stored in Mrs. Rosso's office, instead of by the door like the rest of the class.

Helga wasn't particularly eager to run two miles, but knew in the back of her mind that it would inevitably get her mind off of the mess she found herself in. Before she could make it out of the door, Helga felt a hard nudge push her aside, and watched Leslie walk past her haughtily.

"Watch it, Pataki." she heard as Leslie passed, and Helga stood in her place, seething. Just as she was going to retort, Leslie spoke again, standing in between the door, making sure that all the girls had left the room. "Maybe you should run a few extra laps, Helga. You're looking a little…_plump _these days. Ciao."

After Leslie disappeared behind the heavy wooden door, Helga hurled her bag at the wall and cried out angrily. The comment about her weight did little to offend her; she was concerned with more important things that her Body Mass Index these days. The statement was really the straw that broke the camel's back, heaped upon everything else that day: her own indecisiveness, Derek's cold shoulder, all of it at once made her upset.

Already donned in her running shoes and long sweat pants, Helga merely tore off the Dance Company T-shirt, revealing a simple black sports bra and pulled a zippered sweatshirt out of her bag. Placing it over her shoulders, Helga retrieved her MP3 player from her bag and left the studio. She was aware that her lack of clothing would expose her to the elements in the worst way, but she hoped that the cold would also keep her mind off of Derek, Arnold and the thought of Leslie Robbins wearing a perfectly purple, broken nose.

Once she arrived at the flagpole, Helga looked around to see if any of her classmates had started their jog. Upon seeing no one, she placed her headphones in her ears, turned on the tiny device, and began running. Instead of pacing herself like she knew she should have, Helga started off sprinting, wanting to gain the biggest lead that she could over the other girls, and also hoping to finish faster.

With the wind against her face and music deafening any sounds from around her, Helga took deep steady breaths and contemplated her situation. The night prior, she found out that Derek actually did like her, at least enough to speak highly of to his friends. And the night prior to that, she came to the conclusion that she and Arnold were just that: friends. This realization was slightly more comforting than it was the night she and Arnold decided that they were friends, and she merely chalked it up to the fact that she got over it.

Thinking on it, Helga was glad to have Arnold as a friend. She'd seen him interact with Phoebe and Gerald, and was certain that he would do the job justice. What she wasn't sure of, was if he would even want to be friends with her, if she decided to pursue anything with Derek. She had never engaged in a real relationship, at least not worth mentioning. Because of this, Helga had yet to see Arnold's reaction to a guy that she showed interest in. On the one hand, he could be protective of her, as a big brother, keeping her out of harm's way, but generally trusting her to make good choices. Or, he could be defensive, but in a less discerning and more aggressive way, intimidating others and making her feel smothered. Worse than that, he could go on not caring at all, and end the still tender friendship.

Before Helga could go on contemplating, she heard exasperated pants coming through her headphones and glanced behind her. Breaking her sour mood, she saw a tired-looking, but completely sweat resistant Lila, reaching for her as if she were the last can of mousse on a bad hair day. Slowing down, she allowed Lila to catch up, moved her headphones, and waited until Lila caught her breath.

"When'd you get here?" she said, taking breaths between each syllable.

"I came straight from class." Helga answered, jogging slowly next to Lila.

"I can tell. You're practically naked…" she noted. "So, were you just eager to run, or what?"

"Nah. I had to clear my head. Plus, Leslie was getting on my nerves."

"What happened?" Lila asked, genuinely concerned. Helga was glad, for a moment, that Lila hadn't used her high-pitched "excited" voice to get any details about her evening.

"Leslie said I'm getting plump, and it just kind of added to my bad day." Helga explained.

"Plump? No way!" Lila said, unbelievingly. After Helga nodded in her direction, she continued. "That girl's crazy. Just because you don't live off of soy crackers and Peach Flavored Diet Iced Tea Infused Lemongrass Chamomile Vitamin Enhanced Water doesn't mean you're plump."

"Is here such a thing as Peach Flavored Diet Iced Tea Infused Lemongrass Chamomile Vitamin Enhanced Water?" Helga asked, smiling.

"Probably. Anyway, don't listen to her, you look fine."

"Thanks, but that's the least of my problems. I think Derek's mad at me." Helga admitted.

"Hottie McHotterson? Why would he be mad at you?" Lila asked, assigning Derek the silly nickname. "Did something happen last night?"

"No, last night was pretty great. A little embarrassing, but a lot of fun. I just hope I didn't say anything to make him think otherwise."

"Well…did you do anything out of the ordinary today? Something that would make him get a bad vibe from you or something?" Lila asked, still probing, but doing so politely.

"No…I got ready, had breakfast, Robbie gave me a ride to school, I dropped some papers off at Mr. Foster's-"

"Wait a sec, rewind. Who gave you a ride to school?" Lila asked.

"My cousin, Robbie. You met him last year, remember?"

"Is he the one that won that ballroom dancing competition back in October?" Lila asked as they rounded the final corner of the rectangular campus. They couldn't see Leslie from their vantage point but were both certain that she'd be waiting at that flagpole, reading a magazine, or something.

"That's the one." Helga replied.

"Mhmm. That's one hot slice of man-pie right there…" Lila said, drifting off of the subject.

Helga looked at Lila and feigned disgust. "Hottie McHotterson? Man-Pie? Are you completely incapable of using names today?" she asked as Lila just shrugged her shoulder and laughed. "And please don't ever refer to anyone I'm related to as anything associated with food."

Lila's eyes widened as Helga spoke, and when she came to her own realization, she jumped up and smacked Helga lightly on the back of the head.

"What was that for?" Helga asked, preparing to swing back.

"That's it, you moron!"

"What is?"

"Derek probably saw you and Robbie together this morning and thought that he was your boyfriend, or something!" she said excitedly.

"But Robbie's my _cousin_…" Helga replied, stressing the word.

"And how is Derek supposed to know that? It's not like the two of you look alike. Even I didn't know you guys were related when I met him." Lila pointed out, calming down.

"But…" Helga began, searching for a way out. "But, Robbie's older than me. He even _looks _older than me."

"Big deal, I know a ton of girls who have boyfriends in college."

"But-"

"But nothing!" Lila interrupted, pointing a finger at Helga. "You need to go find him and explain that Robbie is your cousin and that everything was just a big misunderstanding."

Taking a deep breath, Helga spoke quietly. "I guess." she said, starting to jog quicker.

"_You guess_? It's the least you could do, especially since he bothered to explain his little misunderstanding to you." Lila stated, enraging Helga with her ability to spontaneously makes sense. "You like him, don't you?" she inquired.

"Yeah, I like him, but I don't know if it's really worth all this trouble…" Helga said, nearing the flagpole.

Lila smiled to herself, recognizing that it was the perfect time to spring a n unexpected lesson on Helga without her knowledge. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about it anymore, I can handle that."

"Really?" Helga asked skeptically. She hadn't expected Lila to drop the issue so easily.

"Yup." she said, looking forward ashes jogged. "So what's the deal with Leslie calling you fat? Did you get on her bad side again?"

"She called me _plump_, Lye. Don't get carried away with it. And, besides, I'm _always _on Leslie's bad side." she remarked.

"Well, you must have done _something_…" Lila suggested.

"Who knows? Maybe she had more than half a stick of gum for lunch and decided to take it out on me." Helga joked, as they passed by the apathetic-looking brunette, who had her head so buried in a magazine that she didn't hear.

Lila beamed. Finally, her bait arrived. "Speaking of which, what'd you have for lunch today?"

Helga blanched. "Lye, you know I hate talking about what I eat."

"Who am I going to tell?" Lila said, smiling.

"Alright…um, I had…some chips, milk, a peanut butter and apple sandwich-"

"Oh! Have you ever tried peanut butter and bananas?" Lila asked animatedly.

"No. I've heard it's pretty good, but it sounds kind of gross." Helga replied.

"No way, it's great. You should make one and have it for lunch tomorrow." Lila suggested.

"Nah, I'll pass." Helga said, shaking her head, causing her ponytail to move from shoulder to shoulder.

Lila smiled, calming her voice. "Helga, how will you ever know if peanut butter and banana is the sandwich for you, if you don't give it a chance?" she asked, knowingly.

Creasing her brow yet again, Helga narrowed her gaze and looked at her running companion. "We're not talking about food anymore, are we?' she asked, cautiously, even though she was already certain of Lila's answer.

"You tell me." she replied, grinning wildly.

Deciding to play along with the game, Helga took a deep breath and spoke up. "Okay…fine. So let's say, I do take a chance on peanut butter and banana. What if I don't like it?"

"What if you take a chance peanut butter and banana and you actually _do _like it? It's a win/win situation! What could _possibly _go wrong?!" she reasoned, gesturing madly again.

"Peanut butter and apple might not speak to me ever again!" Helga replied. She was surprised at the speed by which she began using the silly nicknames. She then remembered, that she was very used to assigning food as the code name for Arnold.

"But peanut butter and bananas have already done so much to impress you!"

"What part of _peanut butter and apple might not speak to me ever again _don't you get? We've been friends for a long time, and I don't want to ruin that just because I wanted to try a new sandwich!"

Lila rolled her eyes and huffed. "If you ask me-"

"I didn't." Helga interrupted.

Glaring at her, Lila continued. "If you ask me, PB and A had plenty of time to be your lunch if that's what he wanted. And since you've got nothing to lose by simply trying another sandwich, then you should take it." Helga's silence only willed her to continue. "If PB and A is as good a sandwich as I think he is, he'll be happy that you're happy. Even if it's with another sandwich."

"Okay, enough with the food analogies." Helga smiled.

Lila stopped running, and smiled in return. Looking over Helga's shoulder, she saw Leslie take notice of their standstill, and began making her way over. Glancing back at Helga, she could tell she had managed to get her thinking. That was a start. "Seriously, you should go talk to him. What could it hurt?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

Helga peered around, looking for a distraction, but finding none. Once again, to her chagrin, Lila was right about something. This was getting to be a disturbing trend.

Looking her friend in the eye, she squared her shoulder and breathed evenly, trying to calm herself down. "I have to go." she said, before taking off back towards the school.

"Go get him, girl!" Lila cheered, standing not far from the flagpole and grinning like an idiot. Her smile remained in place, even when Leslie came up behind her, watching Helga sprint away.

"Hey! Where's Pataki going?!" she asked, on the verge of a tantrum.

"I have to say," Lila began, placing a hand on Leslie's high shoulder, in mock-comfort. "I think, she's going bananas."

* * *

Back in the Dance Studio, Helga gathered the scattered items that once inhabited her duffel bag (prior to her brief lapse into anger when she threw it at the adjacent wall) and swung it over her shoulder. Using her free hand, she combed her hair, which she had just freed from it's constraints in a ponytail holder, out of her face. Closing her eyes, she stood up and sighed.

"I must look like a wreck." she said, out loud.

"You don't look _so _bad…" came a voice from in front of her.

Helga's eyes shot open as he leaped back, shocked by the appearance of anyone in the studio with her. The steps to the upper level of the building, in addition to the heavy wooden door, were creaky, and most of the time, she could tell when someone was approaching. She surmised that the conversation with Lila had her thinking so hard that she ignored the telltale sign of someone advancing open her.

Shock registered throughout her body, first of all, because she was not alone when she was almost certain that she was. It came once more when she realized that in the room with her was Derek. In return, she stood, completely silent.

Having him catch her talking to herself wasn't too bad.

Having him catch her talking to herself after a long run, which left her looking rather disheveled was bad, but not mortifying.

Mortifying was all of these factors combined with the fact that she now stood in front of him…wearing little more than a sports bra. Feeling more self-conscious about her state of undress, than upon their last meeting (she was beginning to think that being half-naked in front of Derek was going to be some kind of sick trend…that and Lila being right…), she attempted to move her bag to cover her exposed stomach.

"What are you doing here?" she asked hurriedly, regretting the words as soon as she spoke them. Despite her sprint from the front of the school tot the dance studio, she was still hoping to have a few minutes to herself, so that shoe could figure out what she was going to say to Derek once she saw him. His sudden emergence in the room threw her off completely, and she was, literally, at a loss for words.

"Well, I was…looking for you." he began, choosing his words with care. "You told me you had a class up her in the afternoon, but no one was here earlier, and then I went back downstairs, but no one was their either. I was going to give up, but I figured I'd try looking up here again."

Helga was touched that he actually looked around to find her, but hoped that it didn't show on her face. "Oh. Yeah, my…co-captain had us running laps again."

"You guys don't get much of a break, do you?" he asked, loosing up and smiling.

"No, she's kind of a dictator, really." Helga joked. Finding herself growing more brave, she resolved to just come out with what she was going to say. "Well, that's good, because I was actually coming to find you too."

"Oh?" he said, as his voice wavered slightly.

"Yeah, I wanted you to know that I had a really good time last night." she said, hoping that he'd reply in a similar manner.

"Even the little dedication at the end?"

Distorting her face at the memory of the last act at the Open Mike Night, Helga replied. "Well, it wasn't exactly my favorite part of the evening…but, I could tell that they didn't mean any harm. And your effort was genuine, so, no harm, no foul, right?" Helga was surprised at the ease with which she was speaking. The two had already made it out of the door, and were walking down the stairs.

"Right." he said, nodding and opening the door at the bottom of the stairs for her. They were back outside then, facing the parking lot.

Helga almost congratulated herself for resolving the incident before she realized that she hadn't necessarily cleared anything up regarding that morning. "And just so you know, this morning, it was…I was…" she said, piecing her thoughts together as she spoke.

"Your cousin?" he asked, calmly.

"Yeah." Helga sighed, letting her shoulders relax. "How'd you know?"

"I got some help from a friend of yours." he said, smiling slyly.

Helga quirked an eyebrow, wondering if Derek may have run into Lila on the way back up to the dance studio. "Good. I actually wanted to invite you to a show I'm in tomorrow. It's at the Pickett Graham Center for the Arts. It's not a big recital, or anything, but I thought you might like to come." she offered. They had reached her car, parked closer to the school than his, and she paused near the rear door, behind the driver's seat.

"Sounds like fun." Derek replied, at Helga's slight confusion and jealousy. She wondered how he was able to collect himself and remove any traces of nervousness from his voice in a moments notice. "Mind if I bring a friend?"

Helga caught the way in which he said the word 'friend' and hoped that all her stuttering and food analogies had not gone to waste. Whether or not her interpretation was correct, she smiled and replied in stride. "Of course."

Shaking his head, Derek laughed quietly. "No worries, I'm just bringing my cousin."

Taking the joke, Helga responded, "Are you sure it's just your cousin?"

Opening the driver's door for her, Derek stepped aside to let her in. "I'm positive." he began, letting Helga slide into the seat and rest her bags in the passenger seat next to her. "Granted, she's a beautiful girl, but she's also fourteen, which is kind of gross."

"Fine, I guess your story checks out. It's at 5:30, by the way." she added, looking up at him from the driver's seat.

"Good. See you at 5:30 tomorrow, Helga Pataki." he said, closing her door for hr and walking in the opposite direction, toward his own vehicle.

Waiting until he was a good twenty or so feet away, Helga threw her hands up (as high as she could, at least, in the enclosed space) and released a girlish squeal, and a string of incomprehensible words. She steadied her breathing and stopped only when she realized that in the brief time that she had her eyes closed, Derek had made his way back to her car.

Blushing furiously, Helga started her car and rolled the window down. "Yes?" she asked, hoping her cry of excitement wasn't heard. No such luck.

"What was that noise?" he asked, concern and humor lacing his voice.

"How did you hear that? Are you one of the X-Men, or something?" she joked, hoping he'd forget whatever noise he heard.

No, your sunroof is open." he said, pointing just above her head.

Looking up, Helga's shoulders slumped. Upon seeing her expression, Derek spoke again. "Is this another attempt to 'Go Green'? he asked, leaning down to the window to speak to her, literally, face to face.

"No…I…", she began, noting that she had recently told him the truth regarding her cousin, and decided not to mar the good deed by lying. "I…kind of lied about that last night. I really did fall off of my doorstep. And just now, I was…happy that you accepted my invitation. So I…screamed a little bit." she said, realizing that she probably sounded like an idiot or mentally unstable or both.

Waving a finger in her face, Derek chided, "Lying is not nice, Miss Helga."

"Hey! You lied too." she pointed out.

"When did _I _lie?"

"Last night. You said we'd listen to Suburban Legends on the way home, and we didn't." she said, feeling suddenly bold, and speaking with far less restraint than before.

Derek smiled suddenly, and stood up straight. "You've got me there. By all means, allow me to make it up to you, tomorrow." he requested.

"I don't see why not…" she replied, feeling the old, familiar blush return to her face.

"Until tomorrow." he said, turning to walk away once again. "And no screaming this time." he joked.

Helga followed his playful admonition and willed herself not to scream, even after she pulled out of the school parking lot. She may have made a fool of herself, but didn't fight the urge to smile the entire way back home.

* * *

"What are you smiling so hard about?"

"What? A girl can't be happy, or something?" the girl replied, looking over her shoulder, her grin still in place.

"Yeah, but I hardly find the formula for Conservation for Momentum anything to smile about." Gerald said to his classmate. The Physics class was the only one that the two shared; even so, they rarely spoke, but something motivated him to inquire as to why she was suddenly so happy.

"If you must know," Lila began, turning back to the glass-paned window. "I'm watching the results of me being the bestest friend ever."

Looking confused, Gerald leaned over his chair, which sat directly behind Lila's and peered out of the window. He had to admit, the sight made him grin as well. Helga was talking, somewhat animatedly to someone he didn't recognize, but who he assumed was the guy that Arnold was looking for (and found in one of his own classes) as Helga's new romantic interest. As Arnold described, the guy looked alright: no tattoos on a shaven head or mysterious chains around his feet.

"What do _you _have to do with what's going on down there?" Gerald asked skeptically.

"I'm the one who told Helga to give him a chance. Now look at her: she can't stop smiling." Lila said, clearly proud of herself.

"Well, I applaud your wonderful efforts, but did Arnold happen to come into the equation anywhere?" Gerald asked. As happy as he was to see Helga in a better mood, he couldn't forget about Arnold.

"Yes, actually, he did. He's going to play the supportive best friend who doesn't go ruining all of my hard work. Helga deserves this." she said, looking at him.

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"Of course I do. Everything will turn out fine." she assured him, turning back to her work as she resumed taking notes.

'I certainly hope so…' Gerald thought, shaking his head and turning away from the window.

* * *

__

Yay! Chapter ten! I was really upset this past Friday night (just ask Blonde Cecile). I was getting ready to post this that night, but my computer deleted it. I was so upset, and I ranted about it on my journal, before I just sat down and rewrote it. I didn't realize until half way through, that getting all of that deleted actually made me rewrite this better than the original. So, this chapter is actually an improvement (in regards to quality and length…the first one was nine pages, and this one is thirteen!). I can hardly believe I wrote this in two days And also thanks to Blonde Cecile, who showed me all these awesome Hey Arnold vids that she made, and they totally made my day. All my favorite episodes were there. So, thanks!

And another thanks to numba1jimmyfan who reviewed and told me to update. I used to look through reviews for other stories and see reviewers who would comment on updating an d think about how much that must have annoyed the write. But, really, it kind of helps. It's nice to know that people are eager to read this.

Hope you enjoyed!

-PointyObjects


	12. Step One

**The Compromise**

**Chapter Eleven: Step One**

"Am I the _only _one who got flowers?"

There was a mutual eye roll from the occupants of the front seat.

"Probably." Gerald replied, not bothering to look into the rear view mirror at Arnold. Regardless, he was certain the he was fidgeting and making himself nervous back there.

"This is going to be a disaster." Arnold replied, sliding down in his chair again. Gerald surmised that if he slid down any further in the backseat, he'd be under the driver's seat by the time they got to the Arts Center.

The three teens were on their way to Helga's recital, and although it wasn't as big as the ones usually held in the spring and winter, Helga asked that they be there. Phoebe also let Gerald and Arnold know that her parents had completely forgotten about it, so for the sake of their friend, they all obliged to attend.

"No, it's not, Arnold. Helga worked really hard with those girls, and I think it's going to be terrific." she said, teasing Arnold just a bit. Even she had to admit, Arnold's down mood was only slightly comical. One would have thought that it was himself in the show, instead of Helga.

"You know what I mean." he said, producing another long sigh. "Are we going to go out afterwards?"

"More than likely. You know how Helga is after these things." Phoebe answered. The four of them almost always went out to eat after Helga had a show, since her adrenaline levels usually hadn't calmed down yet. That, or her parents had neglected to show, and she wasn't ready to go home to an empty house, again.

"It'll be good to just have the _four _of us go out again…" Arnold said, absentmindedly looking out of the window, as Gerald pulled up to a red light. Expecting a response of some kind, humorous or not, Arnold was eerily suspicious when no one said anything in response. "What?" he asked, cautiously.

"What?" Gerald and Phoebe answered in unison.

"I said, 'It'll be good to have just the _four _of us go out again', and you guys didn't say anything." he noted.

"Well, you weren't really asking a question, Arnold." Gerald said.

"Correct. It was more of an observation." Phoebe added.

Arnold remained quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching back and forth between the back of Phoebe and Gerald's heads. When he finally did speak, he did so in a similar manner as before, cautiously.

"Do you guys know something that I don't?"

"What do you mean?" Gerald asked simply.

"I mean, do you guys know something about tonight, that I don't know."

Phoebe and Gerald could conjure up no smart remarks or amusing replies, and opted to remain silent for the time being. Gerald eventually did reply, speaking honestly to his best friend.

"I might know _something_."

"_You _know?!" Phoebe asked, shocked. She was aware that Helga had not revealed anything vital about Derek to Arnold, but was certain she hadn't done so to Gerald.

"Yeah, do you?" Gerald asked in reply.

"Of course _I_ know. She's my best friend." she said, speaking the obvious. "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday; when'd you find out?"

"Yesterday, after school."

"Well, I don't know _anything_!" Arnold said from the backseat, tired of being ignored. "And if _someone _would like to tell me what _they _know, that'd be great. Or maybe the two of you can just tell each other what you each know, and I'll just sit back here and listen quietly." he finished, finally sitting up straight in the car.

Phoebe discreetly mouthed "I'll tell him." to Gerald and turned around in her seat. Greeting Arnold face to face with a smile, that did little for his mood, Phoebe took a deep breath and began. "Well…the truth is, we may not be the only ones attending Helga's recital." she said, folding her hands in her lap.

Arnold's eyes shot up to the rear view mirror, where Gerald met his gaze and nodded. Arnold understood immediately, and felt the urge to sulk again. "Why wasn't I told?"

Gerald started to reply, but Phoebe beat him to it. "There's something you have to understand, Arnold. Despite being a girl, Helga doesn't do…"girl-talk" like most girls. When she called me yesterday, she wasn't giddy or giggling or any of that stuff. It was almost like she was nervous, and with good reason. She doesn't want to count her chickens before they hatch, so to speak. So, don't think that she neglected to tell you because she's mad at you; she's probably just anxious."

Arnold sat and wondered why being anxious over a guy was such a big deal to Helga. Granted, he'd never seen her in a situation where she really liked a guy, but she certainly had enough of them as close friends, and never once had he seen anything resembling apprehension coming from her.

"Well, how did _you _happen to know?" Arnold asked Gerald. Whether or not she was nervous, the fact of the matter was that she had told Gerald, someone she wasn't especially close to, before she bothered to tell him.

Gerald was certain that Arnold's mood would only get worse if he found out that Gerald not only knew about Helga and another guy, but that he saw the two of them talking, alone. "Oh, the thing is…" he began, searching his mind for an alibi. "…I actually didn't hear anything. I just didn't want to be out of the loop, like you." he said, hoping to lighten the mood. When Arnold finally looked away, Gerald shot Phoebe an inconspicuous wink to let her know what had just happened.

By this time, the trio had already made it to the Pickett Graham Arts Center, and Gerald was parking his car. Stepping out, Arnold looked at his small bundle of modest roses, clearly upset. It was only when Gerald came up behind him, placing a reassuring pat on his shoulder, that he began walking towards the building.

Whereas the structure was self-effacing from the outside, having been renovated from an old elementary school, it was certainly unique on the inside. Once up the concrete steps and through the glass doors, the lobby was definitely one of a kind. The walls were lined with shards of broken glass, al different colors embedded securely into the concrete, with bricks lining the top and bottoms of each wall. Ahead of them were the ornate wooden doors that led to the main auditorium, blocked only by a long table, where four or so women sat, tearing tickets. Between them, and the table were about one hundred or so spectators, dancers and parents, crammed into the small space.

Gerald fished the bright pink tickets out of his jacket pocket and handed one to Phoebe and Arnold. Their initial notion was to head in and sit down until the show started, but after seeing the crowd, they instead decided to just burn time until the lights began to dim, signaling the beginning of the show.

Almost as if on cue, Helga turned the corner, wearing a long trench coat over, what they all assumed, was her costume. She refused to tell anyone, even Phoebe, what she and her girls would be dancing to, saying only that her troupe didn't want the surprise revealed. Admittedly she was also, slightly embarrassed about the routine. She did, after all, have a group of elementary school students pick it out for her. In addition to the long coat, Helga wore her hair pulled back in a tight bun that sat low on her head. Although eccentric, the swirls of blue and green that surrounded Helga's eyes, were still pretty, and relatively tasteful next to the golds and silvers that painted the faces of every other teen in the lobby.

She smiled and waved to someone who moved in the opposite direction as her, and began moving toward Gerald, Phoebe and Arnold. Before she could even meet their gaze, or notice that they were there, a girl of equal height stepped fluidly in front of her. The trio could not see her face, but registered the shock on Helga's face, and presumed that she wasn't a friend. Her bright red hair was also in a tight bun, only placed much higher on her head. She stood in an overconfident manner; one hand on her non-existent hip, holding her head high. Helga's face soon changed to that of boredom, as she rolled her eyes at whatever the girl was saying, and feigned a yawn into her hand. When Helga did happen to form a reply, they were short comments, and probably clever remarks. Eventually, the girl walked away, her nose still in the air, and left Helga shaking her head and smiling. After a moment or two of scanning the crowd, in obvious anxiety, before spotting her friends. Unaware they they'd witnessed the past few minutes of her encounter with the girl, she walked to them, weaving in and out of the crowd to reach them.

One she reached them, she said, in an exasperated voice, "I'm so glad you guys are here."

She then launched into a long oration of how her dance partner was still absent, even though they only had a short 20 minutes before the show was to start, and that the girls were getting restless and playing with their makeup.

"It's not entirely necessary for Nick to even be in the show with me…" she began, obviously thinking of a Plan B, should he not show up at all. "The girls just wanted him there for effect, but if he's not here in the next few minutes, I'll have to go it alone." she said, wrinkling her forehead, trying to put the number together in her mind without the addition of her dance partner. She finally looked at her friends, recognizing that she had been ignoring them. "I'm sorry guys; I had a moment. Thanks for coming." she said, sighing.

"It's fine, are you going to be alright?" Phoebe asked. Helga seemed relatively calm, but she still caught the hint of anxiety in her voice. "I know you had lunch with Olga today; how was that?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, I just have the feeling that my work has suddenly been doubled. Oh, and Olga's doing much better today; getting back to her old self."" she replied, still looking around the lobby.

"Well, we're here, if that makes any difference." Arnold said, handing her the unpretentious bouquet, and was glad to see her light up at the sight of them.

"Thanks, Arnold." she said, taking them in one hand, while the other was still preoccupied with keeping her coat closed. "But, you know, you're not supposed to give me the flowers until after I've tripped over my own feet and fallen on my face."

Arnold smiled back at her. "You'll do fine, quit being modest." he joked, glad that the air of awkwardness between them had subsided. Upon arriving, he hadn't seen anyone standing with her, and hoped, in the dark recesses of his mind that Derek would completely forget about the affair, and opted to spend his Saturday evening elsewhere.

That prospect was immediately terminated in the form of a discreet tap on Helga's right shoulder.

* * *

"Hold still, sweetheart. I'm almost done."

"I'm trying; I'm just so excited." the little girl replied, smiling widely, spreading her glittering mouth across her face.

"You should be." Helga noted, sitting back to inspect the girl's face. She wiped a stray smudge of blue-green glitter from the corner of the girl's tiny mouth and rested her hand in her lap to admire her handiwork. She'd single-handedly applied glitter and makeup to each of the nine girl's faces from her dance troupe of P.S. 118. Each little girl was more excited than the last to be wearing so much makeup, making it that much harder to apply the cosmetics. "You guys worked really hard these past few weeks. I'm very proud of you." she said sincerely.

"That's what my daddy said this morning. He said I was his most _special _little girl. I think he was going to cry." she said, giggling in her hand. Despite the fact that all nine girls had touched her heart in one way or another, Helga was especially fond of Erika. She was barely seven years old, but like Helga was incredibly smart and aware of things. It could have been the fact that she was the only daughter of one her more eccentric, but overall likeable elementary school teachers. Or the fact that when the rest of the girls on the dance team said they wanted to be fashion models and shoe designers, Erika said she wanted to travel the world and write about animals. Either way, Helga felt a bond with the child, and was happy to be her mentor.

"Well I'm not surprised. Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?" she asked, leaning down so she could be at eye level with the girl. Smiling as her head bobbed in response, Helga went on. "Do you think you can make sure everyone is ready for warm-ups? I'm going to go see if Nicolas is on his way."

"Okay." she responded excitedly, leaving Helga standing amongst the other stage mothers and bedazzled youngsters. Exiting the room a few minutes later, Helga tugged her long jacket closer to her, hoping no one would inquire of her costume. In her opinion, it wasn't too decent, leaving little to the imagination, but the parents of the dance program saw it as just a costume, and approved. Nevertheless, Helga was self-conscious wearing it, and figured that if anyone was going to see her in it, then it would only be for a few minutes, from their place in the audience.

Walking up the hallway of the arts center, Helga scanned the faces of people entering. The show was to go on in just over 20 minutes, and Helga's partner was nowhere to be found. The girls of the P.S. 118 dance program had picked the theme of their dance number, and thought it would be fun, if Helga performed the number with another person her age. Nicholas was a junior who tried out for Dance Company, and despite not making it that year, he was active in their high school's dance program and Helga asked him to partner with him immediately. Granted, she could have performed alright without Nicholas; but given the nature of the song, and the girl's incessant requests, she didn't want to think about doing it alone.

From behind, Helga heard a squeal, and turned, hoping it wasn't one of her girls that may have hurt themselves. Instead she found a petite brunette running toward her, screaming wildly. Helga opened her arms, in what looked like a hug between long-lost friends, but she was also attempting to catch the girl, who was obviously moving too fast to stop in time.

Helga met Nena after the two auditioned for the role of Maria in the community's production of the Sound of Music a year prior. They initially started as rivals, as expected, and when the cast list was posted after a weekend of difficult auditioning, the only thing next to the name "Maria" were the words "Undecided". Both Helga and Nena were the reason for the indecision, and were asked to return the following week for one on one auditions. Such try-outs went on for three weeks, and the judges and production troupe were still undecided. After the last audition, the decision was finally made, and Nena got the part. As thankful as he was, she no longer saw Helga as a rival, but as an equal. The two auditioned for many other role alongside each other, and when they weren't vying for the same part, they could be found cheering one another on. Even though the two had little inn common aside from their passion, they remained close friends.

Their collision was less tragic than Helga would have guessed, but she still staggered back at the speed with which the girl was moving. When she stepped back, Helga smiled and took in her outfit.

She wore a sequined, yellow top, under a denim jacket, and bedazzled jeans and cowboy boots. Like most of the dancers, her makeup was exaggerated; gold eyeshadow and bright pink lips.

"Wow you look…" Helga began, somewhat shocked by her appearance.

"Like a moron? Yeah, I'm aware of that." she said, spreading one of her arms, leaving the other concealed behind her back, and looking down at her ridiculous ensemble. "I was actually going for America's pop princess."

Helga shook her head, not understanding. Only when Nena turned away from Helga to slip on a blonde wig and whirled back around to grin at Helga, did she get the hint.

"Oh, no…they didn't rope you into-" Helga began, already laughing.

"That's what I get for introducing those kids to democracy. They voted this over Swan Lake unanimously." she lamented.

"I know but…_Hannah Montana_? Really?" Helga snickered.

"Hey, the song isn't so bad once you listen to it." Nena admitted, looking around. "Over, and over, and over again."

"Yeah, okay." Helga said, skeptically. "You have fun with all of that…" she said, starting to walk away.

"No way, young lady." Nena said, latching her tiny hand onto Helga's arm. "Not so fast. I gave away my secret performance; it's your turn to spill."

"Sorry. I promised my girls I'd keep my lips sealed." she replied.

"Can I get a hint?"

"Maybe."

"Are you wearing a wig?"

"Yes."

"Heels?"

"No. One of the moms dyed some pointe shoes for me." Helga. "Alright enough questions. I have to find my partner."

"He's not here _yet_?" Nena asked. As dancers, they were both painfully aware of what a missing partner could do to a well-planned performance. Even the most skillfully improvised numbers could reveal the uncertainty in a dancer, and the audience would be all too quick to discover it.

"Cross your fingers." Helga said, as Nena walked down the hallway that she had just come from. Sighing as she began searching the lobby with her eyes, Helga hoped that he'd arrive soon. Before she could think any longer on the subject, a pair of bright, and ridiculously artificial amethyst eyes were in front of her, blocking her view of much of the room. She already knew who was standing in front of her, rather close, she thought, and did nothing more than stare at the girl blankly. Steeping back or looking away would have signified submission, and Helga was never one to back down.

"Well, well, well…look who we have here…" she said to no one, in a snotty, self-righteous voice.

"What do want, Viola?" she asked, bored.

Viola Cooke was considered, to most, a formidable opponent, in every sense of the word. While she was not extraordinarily gorgeous or tall, even Helga had to admit, she looked pretty when painted up in the exaggerated makeup of the stage. Not only that, talent seem to come rather naturally to the otherwise unappealing girl. She was an accomplished dancer and singer (mostly in her own mind; most would agree that her voice was too nasally to listen to for more than a few seconds at a time) and could charm the most ill-mannered of people. Instead of using this to her advantage, she usually liked to lord it over people; proclaiming, in the way that she walked and talked, that the other 7 billion people on the planet were lucky to be sharing the same air as her. While most trembled in her wake, Helga found her vapid and shallow as well as a complete idiot. To waste her time on such a stupid slip of a person was no better to her than arguing with celebrities over the practicality of underwear.

"Just wanted to let you know that you can drop out at any time, you know, to save yourself some dignity." she said, smiling wickedly. "That is, if you have any at all to spare."

Helga was already growing tired of the redhead's company. Everything about her was a farce; her hair, so bright that Ronald McDonald probably came to her for hair care tips, her acrylic nails were long enough to be classified talons, and the contacts that made her eyes that distinctive shade of purple, were so ill-worn that the muddy-brown color of her eyes still came through.

"Is that all, Violin?" Helga retorted. She liked the analogy enough, and the girl's voice often took the tone of a broken stringed instrument, anyway.

"Save your breath. You'll need it when I go home today the victor." she said, strutting away, her head held high. It seemed, though, that she held it too high to walk properly and when she had gotten no further than six feet from Helga, she tripped over an empty stroller and fell forward clumsily. To laugh out loud as she wanted would have been somewhat immature, and so Helga kept the sight to herself and shook her head, smiling quietly to herself.

Turning back to the mass of people, Helga hoped that, if nothing else, Nick would come walking through the glass doors and apologize profusely for being so ridiculously late. Instead she noticed her friends standing not far off, and momentarily forgot her plight.

Rushing toward them, she skipped all greetings and let them know that she was glad that they were there. Realizing that her friends could discern the worry that was still evident on her face, she explained. "My dance partner isn't here yet, and we're going to start in 20 minutes and the girls are starting to get fussy with the eyeliner." she clarified, rather quickly. For a moment, she looked away from them and thought out loud. Nick's presence in the number wasn't compulsory to it's success; she could very well do it without him. But she also knew that the girls were looking forward to it, and she only had a few short minutes to put it together, change the lighting, and make sure the girls weren't too shocked my any changes that needed to be made.

Phoebe meekly voiced her concern for Helga but, she reassured her that she was fine. "I know you had lunch with Olga today; how was that?" she remembered.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, I just have the feeling that my work has suddenly been doubled." she replied, still looking around the lobby. "Oh, and Olga's doing much better today; getting back to her old self." Helga shrugged. A few days prior, Olga's husband of six years, Kevin Winters, called Helga to ask if she could have lunch with Olga that Saturday. After the birth of their twins, Timothy and Jamie, Olga suffered from Post-Partum Depression, something somewhat common in new mothers. Some days she'd be as she always was: baking, singing, being her normal perky self, while other days, she would hardly have the motivation to get out of bed. Helga had no qualms (no pun intended) about helping Olga out, especially since she was so fond of her niece and nephew. Helga offered to spend the following Saturday babysitting the twins while Olga and Kevin went out to dinner. That afternoon, Olga was feeling better, back in her regular mood of making herself busier than usual. She wanted to plan something special for Bob and Miriam's 35th anniversary, and decided on a party.

"Well, we're here, if that makes any difference." Arnold then said, revealing a cluster of bright red roses, bringing a smile to Helga's face.

'If all else fails, Arnold will find the bright side.' she thought. "Thanks, Arnold. But, you know, you're not supposed to give me the flowers until after I've tripped over my own feet and fallen on my face."

"You'll do fine, quit being modest." he assured her, smiling in reply. Helga was glad that, even after the week that they had, that they could still interact without being uncomfortable around one another.

Before Helga could fully appreciate her newfound, and surprisingly less difficult descent into friendship with Arnold, her attention was diverted to the person standing behind her, silently tapping her shoulder. Turning quickly, hoping to see Nick, in full costume, she was taken aback when, instead of her dance partner, she found, Derek, hiding partially behind a bouquet of colorful flowers.

"Hi!" she said, scolding herself immediately afterwards for sounding so eager. "You came."

"I'm still invited, right?" he joked.

"Yeah. Yes. Of course." Helga stammered. Turning back to her comrades, hoping for some support, Helga began introductions. "These are my friends; Gerald, Phoebe and Arnold. Guys, this is Derek."

Derek greeted each friend individually, stopping to shake Arnold's hand with his free one. "What's up?" he asked him casually.

"Not much." Arnold responded, remaining cool.

"Do you guys know each other?" Helga asked, her eyes shifting between the two in slight panic. The smile she wore when Derek first arrived remained in place, but she was still nervous.

"Yeah, we're in the same Photo class." Arnold explained simply. Helga only raised her eyebrows and smiled, glad that even before Derek and Arnold "met", they at least seemed to be on good terms with one another.

"Right." Derek agreed, turning back to Helga. "Arnold here, gave a pretty cool presentation on Julia Margaret Cameron, not too long ago…"

"Thanks." he said, modestly.

Helga was close to beaming, by this point. Her best friend and…unidentifiable male personage were not only in close association before knowing of their "connection", but were being relatively nice to one another. Had she not known them, she'd have thought they were almost friends.

"Oh, and these," Derek said, handing the bouquet to Helga, who was stunned, not only by it's size, but by the good taste with which it was picked out. In the center, sat four or so Stargazer Lilies, their petals going from a deep magenta in the core to a pale purple on the tips. Bright yellow, pink and orange carnation were added and spotted throughout the bunch were discreet, unopened peach-colored roses. Her hands, now full of flowers, Helga strived not to compare the two bouquets, and in turn, tore her eyes away from them.

"Wow. Thank you so much…both of you." she said, looking then at Arnold. "What happened to your cousin?"

"Oh, Stephanie couldn't make it, but maybe you can meet her some other time."

Before she could reply, Helga felt a tug on her coat, and looked behind her. Standing behind her was Erika, who obviously hadn't messed with her makeup...yet.

"What is it, honey?"

Erika stood, holding Helga's black cell phone in her hand, opened. "Your phone starting ringing in the practice room. It's Nicholas." she said.

With a quick "thank you" to Erika and an "excuse me" to her huddle of friends, Helga turned her back to them, and spoke into her phone. "Nick? Hey, are you on your way?"

Her friends stood by as she traded short, nervous sentences with her dance partner. They were close to ignoring the conversation altogether, knowing that Helga had the ability to work it out on her own, until her cry broke the concentration of every person in the lobby.

"What do you mean you have _bronchitis_?!"

After her outburst, Helga turned to her stunned friends (and a few dozen strangers), and smiled nervously. Ending her conversation with Nick, adding a few assurances for good measure (none of them, she happened to believe herself), Helga closed her phone and made her way back to her friends.

"Everything okay?" Arnold asked cautiously, knowing full well that everything was not okay.

"What's wrong with Nicholas?" Asked Erika, looking more worried than Helga herself.

Lowering herself to the girl's height, Helga put a hand on her head, without mussing her hair. "Nicholas is fine, sweetie. He just has a bad cold, so he won't be able to dance with us today." Helga said, eliciting a gasp from the seven-year old.

"But who will be our Prince Eric?"

"It'll be okay, Erika, I'll make sure everything goes according to plan, alright? Can you do one more, little favor for me?" she pleaded.

"Okay." she said, calming down.

"I need for you to make sure everyone is in practice room number three, in five minutes. I have to go talk to some people, but I'll be right there." Helga assured her.

"Gotcha." she said, offering Helga a thumbs up and walking back down the opposite hallway.

Twisting her mouth to one side, as she often did when thinking, Helga turned back to her friends, bringing the nail of her index finger to her mouth.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Phoebe asked.

"No…I just have to go talk to the Tech Crew; change the lighting and the cues and let the stage manager know what's happened." she said, her eyes shifting from one place in front of her to the next, searching her mind for a quick way to get everything done. "I have at least fifteen minutes, so..." she began, before the lights above her started to dim, letting the audience know it was time to begin taking their seats.

"Well…I guess I don't have fifteen minutes." she said, a bit more panicked this time. "I have to go. Um, thanks for coming, and we're the very last number. Bye guys!" she said, taking off down the opposite hallway that little Erika had taken, but handling her flowers delicately as she ran. "Thanks for the flowers!" she called, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

The remaining four teens looked at each other quizzically, before Gerald spoke. "I guess we can go find our seats." he suggested, moving toward the auditorium. Phoebe and Arnold followed him, while Derek stood still, looking at the corridor that the little girl departed down a few moments earlier.

"I think I'm going to go find a bathroom. Save me a seat?" he asked the trio, and when they all nodded, he walked briskly down the hallway.

"He seems nice." Phoebe offered, once the three were inside the auditorium. She walked behind Arnold and Gerald while they searched the packed arena for four seats.

"Yeah, and you guys know each other, which is cool…" Gerald said, nudging Arnold, who responded only by finding the seats and muttering incoherently as they sat down. Gerald looked to his side at Phoebe, and hoped that the evening would continue to look up from there.

* * *

Derek walked down the hallway, hoping that he wouldn't draw too much attention to himself, as he was a teenage boy walking alone down a hallway full of elementary school girls. Upon finding a particular group of girls, all wearing similar makeup to that of Erika.

When she saw him from the corner of her eye, beckoning her over, she separated herself from the throng of giggling girls and walked up to Derek, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously.

"Hi…" Derek began, feeling awkward about having to ask such a thing from someone less than half his age. He figured that he'd start with an introduction, and hopefully she'd go along with it. "My name is Derek. Derek Bailey."

"Hi. I'm Erika Simmons." she said politely. Derek was glad, that for at least a few minutes, he'd be in her good graces.

"I'm a friend of Helga's." he explained, crouching down as Helga had done earlier, to look the little girl in the face.

"Me too." she replied, smiling. She had one tooth missing from her bottom row of teeth, and Derek found it adorable.

"Great. Well, since we're both friends of Helga's, maybe we could help her out." he suggested.

Erika smiled wide at his words, and without sparing any time, grabbed his hand and dragged him into the practice room, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

"Alright, girls, I have an announce…Derek?" Helga said, opening the door to the third practice room. Expecting to see her group of girls playing or running around, she was surprised when they all sat in a circle, around none other than Derek. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh." Derek said, standing up amongst the little girls and making his way toward Helga. "Um, well, your girls here were just showing me-"

"Where the bathroom is!" announced Erika, standing up as well. The other eight girls agreed and stood as well. "It's…that way!" she said, pointing outside of the door and down the hallway.

"Yes. They were kind enough to direct me toward the restrooms after I got lost." Derek said, nodding at Helga. Standing next to Helga, and making his way tot the door, Derek turned back to the youthful group. "Thanks a lot girls." he said, and turned to Helga. "Break a leg, Helga."

Watching him sail out of the room, Helga smiled and turned to her awaiting group, who giggled at the exchange between herself and Derek. Erika came toward her, and motioned for her to lean down so that she could whisper something in her ear. Stooping down, Helga listened as Erika explained that she fulfilled her favor.

"When your friend came in to help…I mean, ask where the bathroom was, everyone made fun of me and called him my boyfriend." she pouted, even though her facial expression didn't show any evidence of her being upset. Before Helga could reply, Erika went on. "They didn't stop, so I told them that he was _your_ boyfriend, not mine."

Helga blushed deeper as she thanked Erika and stood up to address her group. "Okay, everyone, pay attention. I'm sure Erika has told you that there will be a few changes in our number tonight. Now, I don't want any of you to worry, but Nick won't be dancing with us tonight. " she began, as the girls broke out into a fit of hushed giggles. Disregarding their laughter, she continued. "But I want you to know that we're still going to go out on stage, and do our best, okay? I don't want anybody to change their steps, just because Nick isn't her. Just pretend that there's still a Prince Eric out there, and everything will go smoothly." she said.

"We have to _pretend _he's there?" asked an older girl named Maria, from the back of the group. She sounded confused, but wore a smile, and Helga hoped she hadn't gotten in over her head.

"Yeah."

"So, you're going to pretend to be dancing with him?" she asked, holding back a giggle.

"Not really. I'm going to improvise those parts. Do you guys know what that word means?" Helga asked, trying to get their minds off of the dance routine for a moment.

"It means to feel sorry for someone, right?" asked a third grader named Stephanie.

"No, that's _sympathize_." Helga responded.

"Oh, you mean you're going to make a scientific guess?" asked another girl, named Hannah.

"No…" Helga stared, "That's _hypothesize_."

"Do you mean you're going to become indifferent, or unaware in feeling?" asked Erika, playing along.

"No, that's _desensitize_…what is on your required reading lists these days?" Helga asked, temporarily distracted from the situation at hand.

By this time, the girls were all but rolling on the floor laughing, and Helga couldn't understand why. Had her costume slipped? Did she step in something? "Alright, what's going on?" she asked, smiling.

"Nothing." the group sang in unison, grinning amongst themselves.

"Okay, munchkins, time to get seated. Remember, we go backstage at the end of performance number eight." she called down the hallway as each girl exited.

From the front row, Helga could look down the surrounding line of seats and watched her troupe paying close attention to each dance. She was glad that they weren't expressing any anxiety over their dance, especially since _she _certainly had enough to go around. If something went wrong on stage, she was worried, first and foremost that the girls would be discouraged, and all they would have little to show for all their hard work.

The seventh routine had just ended, and the group was taking their bow. Helga remembered to get her girls backstage before the ninth number began. When the stage went black, and all that could be seen were the muted silhouettes of the next group, her mind began to race. She was always in anticipation of what each troop would bring to the table, and this was no different, especially since Viola Cooke was the mentor for this group.

When music began and a bright pink light fell on the stage and audience, Helga was certain that it was nothing good.

* * *

__

Alrighty, kids. You're probably wondering why I stopped it there. It is because I realized that lately, as happy as I've been with my chapters, I was kind of happy because they were long. Granted, I still think they're pretty well written, and following the plan I set out for the story, but I'd really just like to love what I'm writing despite the length. The next few chapters may be on the longer side as well, but I'm still going to make sure they're good chapters, not just long chapters.

What else, what else…oh, if you didn't figure out who Erika is, reread the beginning of the chapter, from Helga's POV. Not quite POV, but from her side of things. I've lost all sense of what I'm talking about. But it shouldn't be hard to figure out, if you read her last name…oooer.

That is all, hope you enjoyed!

-PointyObjects


	13. Find A Partner

****

The Compromise

Chapter 12: Find A Partner

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the songs in this chapter. Or Hey Arnold. Le End.

* * *

Helga watched in awe as the opening verses of the song, which were all spoken, instead of sung, cued the girls on stage, and most importantly, their ringleader, to begin moving wildly and out of sync. Helga knew that their movements were not because they were bad dancers, or even because they were ill-taught.

The Piedmont Hills Academy for the Talented was a landmark in Hillwood, not only for being one of the most expensive schools in the city, but also for the level of talent that one's child had to possess just to be admitted. Not only that, they held the honor as the largest dance program in the district, but the number of girls on stage was far less than their usual numbers. At least twenty girls were onstage, surrounding their mentor and in a split second, they began moving in perfect, and slightly incendiary harmony.

Each girl donned a faux-leather top with the letters "PHAT" written across the chest. Some tops were secured with thin straps, whereas others only graced one shoulder. Each girl showed off their pubescent midriffs, causing Helga, and most of the audience, to grimace. The makeup that each girl wore was overstated, even for the stage, where more makeup was worn than necessary. Each young girl was covered in bright pink glitter and sparkled from the stage.

No, Helga was sure that these were not _bad _dancers. Their mentor, just forgot where they were performing, and how old they were.

"Oh my word…" Helga muttered as the "dancing" began and the lyrics boomed from the speakers above them.

__

"Somebody give me my truck

So I can ride on the clouds

So I can turn up the bass like…"

Helga looked down at Erika, and the rest of her girls, wanting nothing more than to cover their eyes, but knowing that she didn't have nearly enough hands to do so. 'What is her problem?' Helga thought, watching Viola gyrate to the music, suggestively. 'Does she not know that this is for elementary school girls?'

__

"Somebody pass my guitar

So I can look like a star

And spend this cash like...

What you gonna do when the crowd goes 'Hey-o'?

Why you standin' on the wall?

Music startin' everywhere

So why don't you just move along?"

It wasn't until, from on stage, Viola met her eyes and shot her a venomous look, Helga understood what was going on. Her eyes widened momentarily, remembering a dance show from the year before. Viola, as part of her routine, came off of the stage and danced directly in front of an opponent, who was sitting in the front row. After a few seconds, the girl got so fed up, that she stood and pushed Viola from in front of her. Granted, Viola wasn't hurt, but her plan worked. To interfere with another dancers routine was against the rules, and would result in a disqualification. All Viola had to do was get close enough to antagonize her adversary, without touching them, and she almost always got someone kicked out of a competition.

__

I see you lookin' at me

Like I'm some kind of freak

Get up out of your seat…

Why don't you do somethin'?

I see you lookin' at me

Like I got what you need

Get up out of your seat

Why don't you do somethin'?

Getting her wits about her, Helga whispered in Erika's ear. "No matter what, don't move. Don't stand up, or touch any of the other dancers. Got it?' she asked. When Erika nodded, causing the bundle of copper-colored curls atop her head to bounce, Helga instructed her to pass it on.

As Erika relayed the message amongst the other dancers, Helga watched the number as it progressed, hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst.

"_She had better not touch my girls_." she said under her breath.

In an instant, Viola shimmied to the steps in front of the stage and started walking down sensually, her eyes on Helga. Narrowing her gaze, Helga watched her approaching, and much to her surprise, she brought nine girls off stage with her. She repeated her chant inside her head, and hoped that her girls would listen to her and stay seated. Following Viola, were exactly nine girls, all wearing the same look on their faces, a fusion of defiance and malice.

__

Now you all in my grill,

'Cause I say what I feel,

Only rock to what's real,

Baby bump, bump.

But I can't do that with you,

Only here with my crew,

I can roll if you can,

Don't be a punk, punk.

Helga watched as the ten of them, slowly and purposefully, stood directly in front of each of her own girls, about three feet between them. Each girl from the opposing team looked at their barely-dressed leader, asking for confirmation. When she nodded, the lights on the stage shone brighter, and a series of spotlights honed in on each pink-clad girl. In an instant, they began moving again, with amazing speed and precision. As much as she despised their "mentor", she had to admit that they were talented, if nothing else.

__

What you gonna do when the croud goes 'Hey-o'?

Why you standin' on the wall?

Music startin' everywhere

So why don't you just move along?

With each count of eight the pubescent girls inched closer, until Helga could look nowhere else but directly at Viola. Helga knew better than to see the song, and more importantly, it's grammatically incorrect lyrics as a mere coincidence. Everything about Viola, her stance, her attitude, and now, her vulgar performance, all of them were challenges.

__

I see you lookin' at me

Like I'm some kind of freak

Get up out of your seat…

Why don't you do somethin'?

I see you lookin' at me

Like I got what you need

Get up out of your seat

Why don't you do somethin'?

When Viola leaned over, barely whispering the very last stanza close to Helga's face, she almost jumped up, just to get Viola out of her face. Before she could however, their music ended abruptly, and the lights returned to their dull, beige glow. The lights over the audience soon followed as a nervous looking older man stood on the stage, dabbing his forehead every few seconds.

"Please excuse the interruption, ladies and gentleman," he began, his voice coming out more authoritative than Helga would have guessed. As soon as her music stopped, Viola had whipped around, looking to the stage venomously. "This concludes the number by The Piedmont Hills Academy for the Talented, choreographed by Miss Viola Cooke. We will have a…brief ten-minute intermission before our last act goes on, a…Miss Helga Pataki and her troupe from P.S. 118." he finished, consulting a piece of plain, white paper in his hand. Before stepping off stage, the man flashed a look toward Viola, motioning for her to follow him.

Before Helga could shout in victory (as she initially wanted to), she remembered that ten-minutes was not a great deal of time, and rushed her girls out of the nearest door, and around to the back of the stage.

In her haste, she was unaware, especially amongst the throngs of people moving in and out of the auditorium, of one of her own friends, slipping out of his seat, and taking the opposite exit, to the same backstage area.

* * *

"What just happened?" Phoebe asked, as the lights above the audience came back to life and illuminated the auditorium.

"Somebody didn't like how that Viola girl was dancing." Gerald commented,. Seemingly disinterested. "At least that guy got to her before Helga could; I'm surprised she kept her cool for that long."

Arnold, on the other hand, both looked and felt that role of disinterested friend. Glancing to his side, He saw Derek searching the room for something…or someone. Instantly suspicious, Arnold calmed his voice and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," Derek replied, spotting an exit on the other side of the stage. The light that filtered in from under the door told him that it led to the parallel hallway that they initially came in through and led, he hoped, backstage. "I have to go to the bathroom…again." he said, skillfully avoiding the feet of the three people that kept him from the packed aisle, muttering as he went along. Once in the narrow walkway that separated each column of seats, Derek weaved in and out of the crowd until he disappeared in the masses.

"Is he alright?" Phoebe asked, turning back to Arnold.

"He's up to something…" Arnold said to himself. Primarily, Arnold wanted to follow after him to see what was really going on, but he knew that any conversation (or confrontation, as it could quickly escalate into) would keep him from seeing the entirety of Helga's number, and she'd be sure to be upset of she found out.

* * *

The hallways grew far less crowded the farther Derek got from the entrance, something he was more than glad to see. Just up ahead of him were two doors, one clearly marked "Backstage-Performers Only" and the other read "Wardrobe", and just beyond those doors, sat a flight of stairs. Helga's group of girls, although young, were undeniably smart. They told him flat out that a prince could not be seen in a T-shirt and jeans, and that he could rummage through the well-stocked wardrobe room for something more suitable. A split-second before his hand met with the doorknob of the Wardrobe closet, it opened before him, with such speed that he jumped back to avoid getting hit. Before Derek could turn at the person before him, he was seen, and stood there, without an alibi.

"What are you doing here?" Helga asked, concerned that Derek was constantly lurking around the hallways of an Arts center. Perhaps there was a weirdness factor that she conveniently missed about him.

Without anything else to say, Derek answered, "What are _you _doing here?" He immediately scolded himself for such a stupid reply, but was relieved when Helga merely looked confused instead of open-hand smacking him.

"Fixing the girls' costumes…are you lost?" she asked, hoping that he was joking. "Why are you back here by the Wardrobe Room?"

Looking down, Derek saw none other than little Erika, widening her eyes and motioning with her free hand (as Helga was still holding the other one) in a way that told him to come up with something quick.

"Is _this _the Wardrobe Room? I thought it was the…bathroom." he said. Little Erika's shoulders dropped as she rolled her eyes at Derek's reply. Even she could make up a better defense than that.

"You need to find the bathroom, _again_?" Helga asked, not wanting to tread on sensitive ground, but concerned nonetheless.

"Yes. The other one was…filthy. Absolutely intolerable."

Tucking a few strands from her face, Helga wrinkled her face, and looked around the nearly empty hallway. "Well, there is one upstairs. It should be clean, since no one except the members of the Tech Crew ever use it." she suggested.

"Perfect." he said, rushing past them and up the dusty staircase. Glancing back, but suddenly remembering her time crunch, Helga turned and ushered Erika backstage.

"Did he seem a little weird to you?" she asked Erika as the door slowly closed behind them.

"I like him." she said simply, walking in front of Helga through the dark wings of the stage.

As soon as the door closed completely behind them, Derek snuck back down the few stairs that he ascended, opened the Wardrobe door and disappeared behind it, hoping that a few moments would be enough time to fit something "princely" to wear.

* * *

Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe sat patiently as the lights dimmed, once again, and a few faint lights remained, casting a shadow over the stage. They'd watched the crowd file back into the auditorium, but none of the spotted Derek. When the lighting on the stage suddenly went out each of them gave up looking for Derek and focused on the stage, readying themselves for Helga's number, which would close the show prior to the awards ceremony.

When light returned to the stage, a lone figure sat center stage, the background bathed in a soft blue light. Moments later, the music began playing, a flowing, almost muted techno beat, and a line of girls filed out onto the stage. The lack of over head lighting gave each person on stage a black silhouette against the blue of the backlights, and the audience cooed as the girls surrounded the seated Helga, spreading their arms in almost a huddle formation. Arnold contemplated what the scene would look like from above the dancers, but lost his train of thought when the lighting above them shined brighter, the volume of the music increased and Helga stood up from the circle of girls.

__

"There you see her

Sitting there across the way

She don't got a lot to say,

But there's something about her.

And you don't know why,

But you're dying to try

You wanna,

Kiss the girl…"

With the added illumination, the costumes of each participant were visible, the features clearer to those of stage. Each of them donned either a blue or green outfits, with matching ballet slippers. The layers of sheer fabric that flowed behind them added to the performance, making them look as if the were underwater.

__

Yes, you want her,

Look at her you know you do.

Possible she wants you too,

There is one way to ask her.

It don't take a word,

Not a single word, go on and

Kiss the Girl (sing wit' me now)

To most, however, Helga's costume was the most impressive. She bragged that her aunt worked on each girl's uniform, but hers was custom made, especially for this performance. The top resembled her animated counterpart's: a purple, sequined bikini top, with a swatch of sheer lavender fabric to hide her torso, and a similarly beaded green bottom, that encased both of her thighs, making it difficult, but not impossible to move.

In addition to the exaggerated stage makeup, Helga wore a bright red wig over her cleverly hidden blonde hair, feeling ridiculous under it, but assuming her role nonetheless. When her troupe did desperate to reveal their mentor, the audience's reaction was mixed; some laughed, others thought it well placed, while others applauded. Nevertheless, Helga wore a smile, and watched with enthusiasm as her girls moved gracefully with the music. During their brief weeks of training, Helga made sure to incorporate ballet into the routine, but made sure that they remembered to have fun. By the looks on their faces, Helga was assured that they were doing at least that much.

__

Sha la la la la la

My oh my

Look like the boy too shy

He ain't gonna kiss the girl

Sha la la la la la

Ain't that sad

Ain't it a shame, too bad

You're gonna miss the girl.

Helga, while still moving in sync with the rest of the girls, quickly eyed the Lighting crew just above the stage, hoping they'd remember to keep the spotlight from the suspiciously empty portion of the stage, where Nick was supposed to enter. To her horror, the spotlight beamed down on her and then drifted to the left side of the stage.

'What's going on?! I told them Nick wasn't coming!' Helga thought, moving her arms gracefully, but panicking within her mind. She began thinking of ways to further improvise, but nothing came to mind that wouldn't confuse the girls. Instead she turned from the direction of the spotlight, ad-libbing more motions, and trying to look less flustered than she really was.

Daring to glance back, Helga noticed the bright spotlight casting a deep shadow over a masculine figure, approaching the stage through the curtains. As the girl's danced, ignoring her movements (as she asked them to), Helga stood stagnate in the middle of them, falling out of character momentarily. Part of her wanted to believe that the person walking toward her was who he really was, but her mind wouldn't allow her to get that carried away.

__

Now's your moment

Floating in a blue lagoon

Boy you better do it soon

No time will be better

She don't say a word

And she won't say a word until you, kiss the girl

It wasn't until Derek stepped out on stage that Helga broke into her first honest grin since the performance started.

* * *

"Is that-"

"How'd he-"

"And where'd he get-"

As Gerald and Phoebe exchanged (and interrupted) expressions of surprise at the sight of Derek stepping onto the stage, Arnold sat back in his seat, dumbfounded as to how he didn't see this coming. Arnold probably wouldn't have put it past him to do something as drastic as this to win Helga's affections.

And from the way that Helga's smile brightened and she advanced toward Derek, Arnold lamented at the fact that his efforts were, more than likely, working.

* * *

From the corners of the stage, each girl turned to look at Helga, causing her to pause momentarily in her gait, before dancing in her direction and taking a hold onto the frayed edges of her green bottoms. Remembering what to do, Helga feigned shock as the girls circled her once again, unwrapping the embroidered fabric from her thighs, making it resemble a tattered, grass skirt, as opposed to fins, and revealing her long legs to the audience. Across the stage from her, Derek extended a hand, and Helga, once again, lost herself.

From behind her, she felt the nine girls, playfully pushing her in his direction. Silently commending their improvisation skills, Helga was relieved to find the vast majority of the audience laughing at the antics of their performers. She was glad, that, so far, no one could tell that they really had no idea what they were doing.

__

Sha la la la la la

Don't be scared

You've got the mood prepared

Go on and kiss the girl

Sha la la la la la

Don't stop now

Don't try to hide it how, you wanna

Kiss the girl

Sha la la la la la

Float along, and listen to the song

The song say, kiss the girl

Sha la la la la

The music play

Do what the music says

You gotta, kiss the girl

Once face to face with Derek, Helga took his free hand, meeting his gaze with a mix of impatience and gratitude. Before she could try to slip him a hint or two as to the routine that she out together with Nick, Derek smiled, and mouthed to her, "Trust me."

Before Helga could so much as curl her brow at his message, Derek followed the fast beat of the music, twirling Helga by the hand that he held, and pulling her back to him, her back flush against his chest. Glancing over her shoulder, Helga smiled slowly, as the two began moving in harmony with one another.

From off of stage, the sight was beautiful. The fusion of Helga's long legs elegantly moving alongside Derek's stronger, more defined strides, captivated the audience. They moved across the stage almost flawlessly, and when one of them did fall short, the other was there to cleverly "improvise" in time for them to fall back into step. Meanwhile, each girl was more than delighted to have a male counterpart for their routine, and resumed their steps as they learned them in the weeks prior.

The flourish with which the number ended was not fancy, but unnerved Helga nonetheless. From the way that Derek moved, she surmised that her girls had given him at least a brief overview of his role, but she was unsure whether or not they told him how the routine ended. Standing in the center of the stage, hand in hand, Helga nervously searched her mind, once again, for some way to devise a way to end the number without throwing off everyone else on stage. And once again, she came up short, resorting back to Plan A.

For the umpteenth time, Helga underestimated the speed with which her pre-pubescent students could concoct an idea. Whispering loudly along with the music, they again pushed Helga toward Derek, until they were barely more than a few inches apart.

"Kiss her, kiss her…" they chanted, smiling wickedly behind Helga's back.

Suddenly, the stage lights felt brighter and hotter to Helga, as the last few counts of the song seemed to linger on. Before her nervousness could manifest itself in the form of disembodied voices in her head, Derek began moving toward her. Eagerly anticipating the encounter to come, Helga had to admit that she was disappointed at the speed with which Derek's lips made contact with hers, before quickly drawing back. Refusing to allow her face to contort into the frustration that she was feeling, Helga plastered on her "lip balm" smile (named after her Dance Company's habit of smearing thick layers of lip balm on each other's teeth to keep their smiles in place) and waited until the curtain fell at the conclusion of the number.

Once the bulky, black curtain fell and separated her troupe from the audience, the girls surrounding the two teens erupted in laughter and smiles, all the while, forming a straight line across the stage. In unison, they linked up, holding hands, and preparing for their final bow. Helga nearly forget that she was still clutching Derek's hand, until he affectionately squeezed it, bringing her back to reality. She was so busy lamenting over the reserved actions of nearly every male that came in contact with her, that she wasn't aware of the curtain's rising until the crowd thundered in applause. The line stepped forward, and raised their hands above each other's heads (booth Derek and Helga were content with keeping theirs just over the girl's heads). Bowing low, and turning from the stage, Helga let her former thoughts (and twinge of dissatisfaction at Derek's actions), and was happy that she and the girls were able to finish. Even if the audience didn't sense that they had to improvise much of the dance, there was a better chance that the judges would be able to spot it. Helga told herself that it didn't matter whether or not the girls took home an award, but she was certain that their confidence would be bolstered if they did win.

* * *

Backstage, the girls exited quickly, set on finding their parents and siblings, while Helga and Derek stood awkwardly next to miscellaneous props and backdrops. Looking to her side, Helga shook her head, and attempted to keep from laughing. Derek took notice of this an asked her if everything was alright. In truth, he worried that she was laughing at him, and his attempt to match their routine. He dressed hastily in the dark wardrobe room, finding only a pair of plain black pants, dark, dusted boots and an overly frilled shirt to wear, hoping that he wouldn't embarass them (or himself) further.

"I cannot believe you did that." Helga said, meeting his eyes and looking serious. "You walked onto stage, and into a dance number that you…are you crazy?' she asked, breathlessly.

"Um, kind of." Derek said, suddenly nervous. Angry Helga was not someone he wanted to encounter again, but Irate Helga wasn't anyone he'd met before, or wanted to meet, for that matter.

"Regardless of how completely, absolutely, profoundly _insane _you must be to do something like that…" she began, gesturing to show her amazement, before dropping her shoulders and smiling. "…that was, still, very, very sweet. Thanks"

"Really?" he asked, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to hit me."

"Maybe later. For now, we have to suffer through an agonizingly long awards ceremony." she replied.

"Hey, leave the pessimism at the door. You guys could still win." he assured her. "Andrew Carnegie said 'People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing.' From what I saw, you guys had fun, right?"

Helga rolled her eyes, and motioned to walk past him, toward the door that led back into the hallway. Instead, she felt Derek run the tips of his fingers against her slightly opened palm, and turned to look at him. Bravely, he slid his hand down hers, slowly intertwining their fingers, trying to gauge Helga's reaction. Initially, the nervous gaze she offered him, made him want to draw back. Instead, Helga curled around his, and the smile on her smile widened at turned genuine.

* * *

Cute ending, no? I'm not sure about the rest of the chapter, but that ending was sort of cute. I'm not sure how much I love this...initially, I nearly hated it, but it's not so bad. It's not my usual amount of terribleness. Close, but slightly less. My sister's not too happy; I wanted to visualize the whole "Derek and Helga holding hands thing", so I needed another hand that wasn't attached to my body. Needless to say, I had to wrestle her to the ground to get her to comply (she still didn't). How I suffer for my art.

I'm not used to using so many lyrics in my writing, so bear with me as I adjust. It'll get better. I hope. The Song Challenge that Arnolds Love passed on to me helped a ton, so thanks. And in reply to your review, you should be...well, prepared for something...in the near future...mwahahahaha!! (I copied that from your review, in case you're wondering). but it's true. Be prepared for something GRAND. it is coming. And it will steal your socks right off your feet. Yeah.

What else, what else…Poll! I still have that poll up. Granted, I've pretty much made my decision, but I'd still like to get your views. And, I've got a crapload of projects coming up. This is going to be a fun summer. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

-PointyO


	14. Grab Her Hand

****

The Compromise

Chapter 13: Grab Her Hand

__

"Get your hands off the girl,

Can't you see that she belongs to me?

And I don't appreciate this excess company.

Though I can't satisfy all the needs she has,

And so, she starts to wander…

Can you blame her?"

Weezer

"Perfect Situation"

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, Olivia Broadfield or the song "Don't Cry".

* * *

"Hey, you still with us?"

Helga turned from the window, shifting her body weight from the car door to the seat. She smiled within the darkened car, remembering the reason for her distraction. Even though her number was improvised, more or less, from beginning to end, they somehow walked away with First Place, as well as Best Lighting, Best Costumes and Most Creative. The committee that oversaw the competition usually made up enough awards so that each school got at least one. This was the first year that every group, except one got an award. There was little surprise as to which group that was.

Viola didn't seem too broken up during the awards ceremony, and when she approached Helga, she looked only more sinister than usual, as opposed to looking rejected, and uttered something to Helga that left her somewhat confused:

__

"Congrats on your win by default." she said, turning away. "Oh, and I happened to catch your dance with your little partner. Nice to see someone' putting my leftovers to good use. Tell D I said 'Hi'."

Helga pushed the vague statement from her mind and snapped back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Oh, leave her alone, Gerald; she's basking in the afterglow of her fantastic win." Phoebe said, stealing a glance at Helga. "Four trophies…that has to be a record or something…"

"Nah," Helga said, shrugging in the backseat. "Two years ago Stoney Brooke Elementary took home five." Helga fingered one of the four trophies that sat in her lap. Her hands were still shaking with the adrenaline from her final performance. With each award, the school itself was given a trophy, but the mentor also received a plaque. Helga intended to give the one engraved "Best Costumes" to her aunt, seeing as she designed the girl's outfits, and hers. Helga was especially fond of the dress her aunt designed for her final number, and said she'd use it again if she got the opportunity.

"Either way, you did great. Especially that last one." Arnold said, placing a hand on her arm. The two shared the backseat while Phoebe an Gerald sat in the front. Helga rode to the Arts center with Erika and her parents,

Helga smiled warmly at him. "Thanks." she said, in a tone just above a whisper. "I'm really glad you came." she said.

Arnold felt a glimmer of hope rise up within him, and began looking forward to their outing. He and Helga were back to talking, and this time without the distraction of Derek. At least, he thought, for another few minutes. When the show ended, Derek offered to go to Slausen's and make sure they'd have a seat, expecting the normal Saturday evening crowd to be heavier than usual. In turn, Phoebe, Gerald, Helga and Arnold were left to ride to the ice cream shop together. And Arnold, in particular, wanted to make sure that he made the most of the short tip, sans Derek.

"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow evening?" he asked, as casually as his voice would allow him to be.

"Umm, I don't think I'm doing anything." Helga responded. If she did have plans at all, they'd probably consist of catching u on some reading or doing some mundane chores around her home.

"Well, I'm supposed to take some photos for the Junior Hockey League tomorrow; wanna come?"

Helga shrugged her shoulders and nodded. "I don't see why not." she said. She was hoping for an opportunity to speak with Arnold alone and establish their friendship, and especially after she and Lila's 'interesting' conversation the day prior. She ha to make sure that she and Arnold able to be comfortable in each other's presence, even with the thought of Derek as something more as well.

Gerald parked along the street and the four friends exited the car to walk the remainder of the way. Sure enough, the small ice cream shop was littered, inside and out, with teenagers and families, all of the probably waiting for tables, or attempting to exit speedily. Weaving their way through the crowd, Arnold was the first to spot Derek, his arms spread out over the top of table in the far corner of the shop, standing over it protectively. Pretending as though he didn't see him, Arnold joined his friends in scanning the large sitting area, until Gerald pointed him out and they made their way toward him. Derek was waving them over excitedly, and Arnold silently hoped that he'd be able to put on a happy face, at least for the night, and endure.

Once at the table, Derek greeted each of them individually, but reserving a brief hug for Helga. Arnold took note of this, but kept his face neutral. He was the last to be seated, and weighed his options carefully. To the left sat Phoebe and Gerald, and on the right, Derek and Helga had taken a seat. He could either sit on Helga's other side, and risk being left out of whatever conversations those two would have been engaged in, or he could take a seat across from them, next to Gerald and Phoebe. The latter option seemed the most advantageous; he could see them better, and it was harder for them to exclude him if he was facing them.

Gerald and Phoebe let and exasperated look pass between them as Arnold took a seat beside Gerald. Something about the evening wasn't shaping up to be so great, anymore.

* * *

"I'll be right with you guys…"

Lauren passed by their table for the third time, sweat clinging to her brow and long, black hair following behind her, in an obvious rush. A full twenty minutes had passed since their arrival, but Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe, Helga and Derek had not yet been served. Even after a few families and couples left, the rush was so great that their chances of getting something to eat anytime soon were slim to none.

Helga understood Lauren's plight; she was a waitress a few months ago, and didn't want to further stress the poor girl. The next time that Lauren passed by their table, Helga reached out to ask if she was alright.

"Well, it's just a little busy, and I'm the only person here…aside from Pauly, whose in the back and my manager. The other girl who was supposed to help me is in Boston." Lauren said, wiping her hand on her already stained apron. There was no uniform anymore for the employee of Slausen's, but Lauren still donned the customary red and white that decorated the interior of the small restaurant. She was immediately distracted when a complaining patron asked for another root beer. Shooting her friend a tired look, she apologized and went to assist the customer.

Helga looked around the crowded eatery. Derek was leaning back in his seat next there, with his arm lazily draped over the top o f the booth, barely gracing her own shoulders. Smiling at him, Helga stood up.

"Give me twenty-four minutes." she said, exiting the table, amidst the confused faces of her friends.

"Where are you going?" Derek asked, leaning forward as if to follow her.

"Twenty-four minutes." she said, walking up the cash register, where a portly man with a think brown mustache was looking from a calculator to a few pieces of paper nervously. "Hi." she said, leaning on the counter.

"I'm a little busy, young lady." he replied, in a gruff voice, without looking up.

"I know, I'd like to help."

Pausing in his work, the manager looked up, skeptically. "Help? Who are you exactly?"

"My name's Helga. I'm a friend of Lauren's."

"Alright…ya' got any experience?" he asked, playing along, just in case she was pulling his leg.

"I used to be a barista…does that count?" Helga asked. "I'm not looking for a jab; I just wanted to help, since you're so swamped, and everything." she said, pulling back from the counter, about to leave.

"Wait a minute…" he called, cautiously. "As long as you don't screw anything up…"

Helga didn't need to hear anything else. Snatching a white apron from a nearby hook, she tied it around her midsection. She couldn't find a visor like Lauren's and settled with just tying her hair back from her face.

"Can I help you?" Helga asked the patrons at the nearest table. She knew such work wouldn't be easy, but she was too worked up to be sitting down anyway.

* * *

"So, can I sound like an idiot for a moment?"

"A moment?" Arnold asked himself, inwardly. "In could have sworn you've been doing so for the better portion for the day…" Very few if any of Derek's words or actions passed by Arnold without either being disregarded or seen as utterly stupid. Even if he resolved, earlier in the evening, to at least try to get along with Derek (for Helga's sake), there were little if any remnants of such a motion left.

Despite the fact that Arnold initially wanted to do anything to shut Derek up, he replied with a quiet and reluctant, "Sure."

Shuffling forward in his seat eagerly, Derek smiled. Pointing his thumb behind him, he asked, "Is there anything she _can't _do?"

All three friends followed the path of the appendage toward Helga, who, a good fifteen minutes into her impromptu "shift" was trying to make an ice cream animal for a seven year-old. It was unclear whether it was supposed to be a monkey, a dog or a cow. The child didn't seem to care; and even so, Helga was so busy laughing and wiping vanilla ice cream from her face, that she probably wouldn't have noticed.

Derek's question was sincere, something that Arnold wasn't exactly thrilled to realize. If he was as enamored with Helga, as Arnold thought he was, after knowing her for such a short time, then he would surely stick around to see more of her endearing qualities. And Arnold was well aware of what made Helga so appealing.

To say that he was somewhat guarded concerning such information was an understatement.

"Honestly," Phoebe said, smiling at the thought of her friend, and the charming young man whose eye she captured, without even trying. "There's not much that I can think of."

Arnold subtly kept his head from snapping at the seed with which he looked at Phoebe. He silently wondered whose side, exactly, she was supposed to be on. After a moment or so of contemplation, Arnold thought more heavily about the situation at hand. What did he expect Phoebe to say? He wouldn't have said anything negative about Helga, just for the sake of deterring the affections of some random guy. He would rather sing her praises than announce her flaws any day.

"Yeah, she's pretty…amazing." Arnold agreed, twisting a paper, straw wrapper in between his index finger and thumb. His mood was beginning to quell, and Arnold tried to put a real effort into making the night a good one. Even if not for him, for Helga.

Without warning, Helga sat down at the table, resuming her seat next to Derek, and sighed heavily.

"Wow, I am not jealous of Lauren, at all. This crowd was tough." she said, untying the smock from around her waist and folding it in her lap. "What were you guys talking about while I was gone?" she inquired.

Arnold readied himself to answer, but was only slightly surprised when Derek did so for him. "We were just singing your praises." Derek said, casually draping his arm over Helga's shoulders.

Arnold unwillingly let his eyes narrow. 'He's had practice…' he thought. Instead of shrugging his arm away, as he witnessed Helga do many times before, he noticed her leaning toward him and smiling. His heart sank. Not only was some guy throwing his warmth all over Helga, but she seemed more than happy to accept it.

"Whatever." she answered.

"I speak the truth. Weren't we, guys?" Derek asked, looking across the table at Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe.

'Guys?' Arnold asked himself, almost offended by the expression. 'These are my guys. My guys, my friends. Try getting something of your own, pal…' Arnold thought. The plan regarding the control of his anger toward Derek wasn't working so well.

"Actually, we were. Your final number was amazing, Helga." Phoebe responded, nodding her head.

"Really? I was so nervous; Erika and I had about ten minutes to put it together, and I knew there were some times when-"

"It was great." Derek said, meeting her gaze, and causing her to turn away from him, grinning. As modest as she tried to be, Helga was immensely proud, not only for leading her tiny group to victory, but also, the fact that she had to completely put together a dance number for herself and Erika in only a few, short minutes. Although she never performed it, the routine was something Helga thought about one more than one occasion. And even from onstage, she knew the reaction that the number would garner.

* * *

_The stage was empty and no music played. No props, no special lighting, no other dancers. Just a simple, white light, shining down on the center of the stage. From the left came Helga, barefoot and carrying a small child, as if sleeping, across the stage. She walked slowly, as if lost , but carried young Erika carefully nonetheless. Approaching downstage right, Helga rested her down gingerly, and stepped back. As soon as she stood up straight, her music began, a slow and steady piano tune, to which she turned from the girl, who took on the stance of a sleeping child._

_Once back in the center of the stage, Helga began moving slowly, focusing on the music itself, but allowing the words to guide her as well. She yearned to keep any uncertainty from her body, and moved based on instincts alone._

_"Clap hands, daddy comes,  
With a pocket full of plums;  
Don't cry.  
Most days I'm OK,  
Come steal my heart._

_Before long, her movements went from slow and languid, to emotional and almost heart-wrenching. She knew the story behind her movements; her interpretation of the song made it special to her. On the heart of her bare foot, she spun, keeping her back straight, and arms high above her head. The structure that she maintained expressed the pain behind the story of her dance. She played a mother, left to raise her child alone, masking her own pain for the sake of her child, hiding her emotions and staying strong for the only life that mattered to her. The sentiment behind it almost made her cry._

_"How I wish everything was simple,  
How I wish everything didn't end in lies,  
How I wish I could just keep turning back time.  
How I wish I could be more like me,  
When I didn't have to worry about myself,  
How I wish I could just keep turning back time._

_Gracefully moving out of her pirouette, Helga stumbled backwards, as if distracted, and stood still, wavering under the white light. The brightness of her white gown was entrancing, keeping the audience's attentions on her. The wide straps and square neckline accentuated her pale shoulders and long arms, while the cut of the dress complimented her long, lithe body. It fell in taters, some portions ending above her knee, revealing her long legs, and other parts draping behind her, as if ripped off of the train of a longer ball gown. She pulled her hair back, thinking little of it's effect on the rest of the ensemble, but had little time to truly worry about it._

_Forgive me if I cannot try any harder.  
You make it seem like everything I do means nothing at all.  
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter;  
Don't cry. _

__

Turning back to the 'sleeping' Erika, Helga rushed over, as she stirred and woke from sleep, and knelt down beside her. Had she shown any doubt in her movements o facial expression, the audience would have thought that little Erika was hurt, or injured. Crouching down to be at face-level with Erika, Helga smoothed her face, and pulled he into a tight, clearly genuine embrace. Upon releasing her, Helga lay her back down, moving her hand over the girl's face and body, as if putting her to sleep and her fears to rest with her.

_Clap hands, daddy comes,  
With a pocket full of plums;  
Don't cry.  
Most days I'm OK,  
Come steal my heart._

_Backing away slowly, Helga held her arms over her head again, bringing them down t the back of her head, feigning the exhaustion her character was feeling. Pointing her feet forward, she pivoted on her back foot again, and swayed her free leg back, keeping it suspended, at level with the center of her back. In an instant, she brought her feet back to together, and leapt into the air, repeating the move, only bending her arms, arching her back, and bringing her leg a few scant inches from the back of her head. The height she gained harvested a gasp from the audience, but Helga refused to be distracted. She landed on her hands and knees, remaining in such a position for a few eight-counts, emoting the hopelessness that came with such a situation. The dedication to her role was beginning to surprise even her._

_Right now, I am complicated,  
Right now, I am giving this heart away.  
How I wish I could just keep turning back time.  
Right now, I'm the walking wounded.  
Mind set on getting out alive,  
How I wish I could just keep turning back time._

_When she stood, she did so, squaring her shoulders, lifting her head up high, a stance very different to that of her previous poses. She began moving with renewed vigor and strength. When she turned, she held within her determination and her arms and legs moved with hope. After an impressive walkover, or a flip where she did so without touching the stage with her hands, Helga even smiled, but remembered her character and kept it modest and genuine._

_Forgive me if I cannot try any harder.  
You make it seem like everything I do means nothing at all.  
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter.  
Don't cry._

_Clap hands, daddy comes  
With a pocket full of plums  
Don't cry  
Flashback, twisted up,  
I'm so close to giving up,  
Don't cry._

_When the music resumed it's slow progression for a short period of time, Helga stood in one place, her hair now out of it's restraints and falling freely down her back and motioning with her arms the liberation that she was feeling. No more hopelessness, no more self-doubt. Just happiness. After the music picked up, Helga began her movements anew, spreading her arms and leaping forward, only to land gracefully. The chorus repeated, Erika again stirred, this time unbeknownst to Helga, and walked up to her dancing mentor, observing her closely. Straight away, Erika fell into perfect step with Helga, mimicking her movements in harmony. Of course, because of her size, youth and inexperience, her progression was not as fluid, or clean as Helga's but she kept up, and for her age, it was impressive._

_I should just let go…  
I should just let go…_

_Forgive me if I cannot try any harder.  
You make it seem like everything I do means nothing at all.  
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter.  
Don't cry._

_Clap hands, daddy comes,  
With a pocket full of plums,  
Don't cry  
Flashback, twisted up,  
I'm so close to giving up,  
Don't cry._

_When the words ended, and the piano played the same slow tune as in the opening, Helga "noticed" Erika behind her and knelt down again. She and Erika looked at one another knowingly, and Erika stepped into Helga's open embrace. Picking her up, Helga steadied the girl on her left hip, and rocked her gently. She turned from the audience, and exited the stage from the same corner she entered, a split second before the single, white light quickly shut off._

_Clap hands, daddy comes,  
With a pocket full of plums,  
Don't cry  
Flashback, twisted up,  
I'm so close to giving up,  
Don't cry._

_The audience paused, amazed at the display that they witnessed and soon thundered into applause, abandoning their hard, wooden chairs, to stand. The lights on stage resumed, and Helga walked out, hand in hand with her young sensation, and the two bowed, each wearing identical smiles._

_After the commotion died down, and everyone had the opportunity to change out of their costumes and makeup, Helga stood in front of a small crowd of audience members and crew men, a black microphone in her face, and an eager reporter firing off questions._

_"This is Thom Thassleheimer, reporting from the Pickett Graham Center of the Arts, and here with me, I have the winner of this year's Elementary School Dance Primaries. Her name is Helga Pataki and she hails from West Hillwood High School. She mentored a group of young ladies to a whopping four wins tonight." he announced into the mobile television camera. Helga looked at the reporter, plastering a smile on her face, one that was only half sincere._

_"So, Ms. Pataki, how are you feeling after you've literally swept this competition?" he asked. Helga remained smiling, but wrinkled her nose at the graying reporter's mysterious patch of dark brown hair, that graced his head. The lines in his face were deep, but his teeth were uncommonly white. Helga watched him on TV a few times, reporting on a water main break, or a store closing. Even if the news station did send it's most useless reporter to give an account of the night's events, she was too happy to complain._

_"Well, I try not to think of it as a competition. All of these girls have worked really hard, and I think it's great that the community is holding an exhibition of their talent. I'm really happy I was able to participate this year." she said, surprised at the fluidity of her words. She meant everything that he was saying, even if it wasn't quite so eloquent in her head._

_"Wonderful. Do you think you've learned anything from your group in particular?" he asked._

_"I was so happy to have to chance to work with P.S. 118, because I went there as a child. But, this group was a lot of fun to work with, an they were very patient of me, especially regarding my Disney trivia." Helga joked. 'You'd think I was auditioning for Miss Teen Hillwood, or something..' she thought._

_"Speaking of your routine, the judges note that it was fun and original. How did you go about putting it together?"_

_Helga momentarily froze. "In truth, the routine was largely improvisation on the part of myself and my partner. I was originally going to work with a company member that I've known for some time, but he came down ill, and I thought I was going to have to do the number without a partner. But my…friend, Derek, stepped in at the last moment, and helped me out." she confessed, giddily shrugging her shoulders._

_"Sounds like a good friend you have there." Thom said, in a cheesy way. "Well that's all from the Pickett Graham Arts Center. Back to you, Carol." he said, standing still for a few seconds, and then falling back into a natural pose. The small crowd dissipated and Helga stood alone for a few minutes. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Helga searched the remainder of the audience for her friends._

_Helga noticed the movement from her left and turned in time for Phoebe to leap at her. She was glad, at least, that between Nena and Phoebe, that all the people who were in the habit of jumping out at her unrepentantly were somewhat short and thin._

_"You did so well, and that last one, an d your dress, and I was-" Phoebe began, gesturing uncontrollably._

_"Amazing job tonight, Helga." Arnold said, stepping forward, and embracing her. He was aware that it was atypical for her parents to so much as remember a recital, let alone attend one, but he still wanted her to know that her friends were proud of her._

_Breaking apart, Helga replaced her TV camera smile for a honest one. "Thank you."_

_Arnold took in her features as she looked at him, smiling in a way that he was sure she kept from most others. The cosmetics from her earlier routine still remained, in the form of a green-blue shimmer in the corners of her eyes and the remnant of the bright pink lipstick on her lips. The hand that rested on Helga's upper arm soon found it's way to the patch of skin where her jawbone met her earlobe. She released a giggle, then, moving backwards from Arnold. He knew it wasn't out of embarrassment, or her rejection of him. That was just Helga._

_For a moment, there was no Derek. There was still a Phoebe, but she wasn't a distraction. There was just Arnold. And Helga. Sharing a moment, laughing, keeping each other grounded and mellow and themselves._

_For a few, short minutes, they needed little else._

* * *

"Di-Vine…" Helga said, dropping her spoon into the glass cup that she received with her double dark chocolate sundae, topped with chocolate sauce, melted caramel, nuts, whipped cream and two cherries. She resisted licking her fingers, thinking that if Derek wasn't disgusted with her eating habits, he would have by her table manners, or lack thereof. "Nobody tell Leslie about that." she mock-warned.

"What?" Arnold asked, over his empty plate. The group was more or less the last group of the night, but heard no complaints as they continued eating and talking.

"Yesterday, Leslie made us run laps-"

"Again." Derek added, smiling at Helga, remembering Helga's appearance when he found her in the Dance Studio.

"Yes, _again_." she repeated, lightly punching him in the arm. "Anyway, she says the whole Company is out of shape and lazy and whatever. Anyway, before she left, she pushed me and said I was getting _plump_." Helga said, stressing the word to let her friends know how ridiculous she thought of the notion.

"That chick is crazy…" Gerald, said, moving his empty glass around the table. "Why don't you just kick her out of the Dance Company?"

"I can't. Since she's my co-captain, along with Lila, and if I want her out, I have to convince the entire Company that it's for the best. And it's clearly not."

"How can it not be for the best? She sounds awful." Phoebe noted.

"She is. She's sadistic, and conniving, and mean. But, she has connections. We always have great sponsors, we're hardly ever in a deficit, and as much as I hate to admit it, she's a great choreographer. Without her we'd be happier as students, but miserable as a Dance Company." Helga said, stirring the remainder of her melted ice cream around the bottom of her glass.

"No offense," Derek began. "But dancers can get a little crazy, from what I've seen."

Viola's statement resurfaced in Helga's mind, and she hesitated before asking. "Hey, Derek. Viola…she said something, after the awards ceremony. It was…really weird."

Derek stiffened slightly, an action that did not go unnoticed by Arnold. "Really?" he asked, bravely meeting Helga's gaze. "What was it?"

"She said, "I'm glad someone is making use of my leftovers', or something like that. Then she told me to say hi to "D". Is that you? Do you guys know each other?" Helga asked, trying not to sound too interrogative. Regardless she was curious about his connections to Viola Cooke.

"Oh," Derek said, quickly. "About that…I do, sort of, know viola. Her mom is good friends with my mom and s, we kind of grew up together. When we were in the eighth grade, she had one of those debutante coming out parties, and needed an escort. My mom volunteered me, and so I had to take her, and all that ridiculous stuff. To make a long story short, we did go out, for about a month in our freshman year."

Helga's mouth formed a tiny "o", even after Derek finished speaking. She certainly didn't want her perception of Derek to change because of something that happened so long ago. Nevertheless, her mind repeated the same statement: '_She touched him. He's contaminated. Abort mission, abort mission!" _It took her a few moments to snap out of her daze, and listen to Derek calling her name.

"Yeah?" she said, pivoting her head to face him again.

"I was saying, I hope you don't think less of me. I'm fully aware that Viola's not the easiest person to get along with…"

Helga's impression of Derek was instantly restored. Even though dating Viola was something that happened too long ago to truly matter, he still wanted her to know where she stood with him. Waving off his lament, Helga smiled. "Of course not. I mean, we've all done things in our youth that we…regret," she began, shooting a brief glance at Phoebe, who met her gaze and smiled. "But, it's good to see you're on the road to recovery." she joked.

Arnold on the other hand, was only slightly vexed. Helga was in the habit of treating him differently when he was so much as in the presence of other girls, but she seemed to have forgiven Derek immediately. Whether it was his seemingly quick wit or poor excuse for charm, Arnold could not figure out why she was so enamored with him, and decided to remain silent for the rest of the evening, unless otherwise motivated.

A moment or so later, Lauren walked by, clearly less stressed, and Helga caught her attention and asked for the check.

"Oh, your food is on the house. Manager's orders." she said, happily.

"Really?" Helga asked, "Why?"

"Remember that kid who wanted his sundae to look like a giraffe?" she asked.

"It was supposed to be a giraffe? I thought it was a cat." Gerald said, interrupting.

"A cat? I was going for a sort of waterfowl. Like a duck, or a swan." Phoebe chimed in.

"It looked to me like a dog. Or a monkey." Arnold said, adding his two cents and laughing. The rest of the table, and Lauren, turned to Derek, awaiting his input.

"What?"

"Well, what did _you _think it was?' Helga asked.

"Derek's eyes darted around the table. "A giraffe. Definitely looked like a giraffe." he said. Helga narrowed her gaze and shook he head. "Okay, fine. I thought it was supposed to be a bison."

"A bison?!" Helga asked. She didn't know her dessert sculpting skills were that bad. Laughing with her friends, she turned back to Lauren and addressed her. "Anyway, what about him?"

"Well, he's our district manager's son. Sometimes he comes in, but most times, he just sends in Little Joshua, especially when we're busy. It's to see if we can give each customer personal attention while still getting all the work done." she explained. "When Joshua told his dad how you worked for twenty minutes to make his ice cream look like an elephant-"

"Giraffe." Helga said.

"-Right, giraffe, he gave the whole staff a bonus. But since you don't really work here, Mr. Frienz said your meal was free."

The friends exchanged looks before smiling in gratitude, and preparing themselves to leave. Helga waved to Mr. Frienz as she left and exited the small shop. "alright, guys," Helga began, stretching her arms above her head. "I'm pooped. Can I get a ride home?" she asked Gerald.

"Home? The night is young, Helga, and I have barely eaten!" he answered, to the sighs of his friends.

"Why don't you try prancing about onstage and then serving a shop full of hungry customers…" Helga said, tiredly, releasing a yawn. "Please?"

"Fine, fine." Gerald said. Motioning towards Derek, he extended his hand. "Nice meeting you."

"Same here." Derek replied, shaking Gerald's hand, and turning immediately toward Arnold. "Nice seeing you."

Arnold regarded the hand momentarily, but once felt the pause growing too long to be seen as an accident, he accepted it wearily, and shook it. "Yeah, nice seeing you." He told himself it was sincere. It wasn't.

Derek's attention soon focused in on Helga, who stood watching Arnold and Derek interact and smiling. "Hey, if you want, I could give you a ride home…" he suggested, meeting the gaze of each of Helga's friends, hoping for their silent confirmation. Arnold was the first to speak, and attempted to do so in a calm manner, keeping his frustration under check.

"We wouldn't want you going out for your way." Arnold said, stepping forward slightly.

"It's no big deal. I know how to get there." he replied, stepping forward in like fashion, keeping his stance far less bellicose than Arnold.

'There? There as in…her home? As in, that place you probably should never be, or have been?' Arnold asked himself. Derek's chivalry was beyond annoying by that point in the evening. Arnold was usually not so quick to judge, but something about Derek set off a warning signal within him. He just wasn't able to put his finger on it. Not yet.

"As do we, don't worry about it." Arnold urged.

"Who's worrying?"

Nearly everyone in their compact group could feel the rising tension, but Gerald was the one to attempt to end it. "let's calm down guys. No need to make a scene…"

Helga watched the two bickering and after Gerald succeeded in calming them down, she too stepped up. "Really, it's too late at night for all of this. I can ride home with Derek; that way, the cars will be more evenly divided."

Arnold caught the look in Helga's eye; her lips forming a straight line, and her eyelids raising, even if just for a second. He was never terribly good at catching hints, but something told him if he didn't catch this one, it would ruin him later.

"Cool." he said, in a manner completely opposite of the statement. "See you later."

Gerald, Phoebe and Arnold all turned, and after Phoebe reminded Helga to call her the next day, Helga and Derek turned in the opposite direction toward his dark car. Helga smiled when Derek opened her door for her, and automatically glanced at the interior of his door before he could round the car to get in as well. The lock on the driver's side door stood upright.

Apparently, she passed the test the first time.

* * *

"Thank you again." Helga said, breaking the brief silence. True to his word, he played "Up All Night", and didn't seem to mind when Helga "accidentally" brushed her hand against the repeat button. After the song died down, they began conversing.

"For what?" Derek asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road.

"For coming tonight. I'm sure there was something else you could have been doing on a Saturday night." Helga said, staying modest.

"You say that, but actually, I can't think of anyplace else I'd rather have been."

"And thank you immensely for what you did tonight. You have no idea how much the girls and I appreciated it." she said, leaning backwards, speaking to keep herself awake. As quickly as the adrenaline consumed her body, it fled, and she was more than ready for a good night's sleep.

"It was nothing. I had a lot of fun." he said, turning onto Helga's street and approaching her house slowly. "There is something I need to tell you, though."

"Go ahead." Helga responded, cleverly restraining the caution that often inhabited her voice.

"I didn't exactly do it for them. _That _was a perk." he admitted.

"Really?" Helga asked, feigning shock.

"Really, the truth is, I kind of like their instructor, and I thought that if I helped her, she might like me too." he said, bringing the car to a halt, and looking at her, hoping for the best. His car was still on, but his nervousness kept his foot planted firmly on the brakes.

Helga kept her face stagnate, eventually wrinkling her nose to show that she was thinking about his words. "Now, it seems to me, like you've got a few holes in your theory."

Holes?" he asked.

"Yeah, holes. For instance, you have too many 'ifs' thrown in there."

Derek thought about his words. "I only said 'if' once."

"That's once too many." Helga said, mock-scolding him. "Next, you have to assess her feelings toward you before you do something like jump into her dance numbers."

"What do you suggest I look for, then?" he asked, playing along.

"Oh, I don't know…" Helga began, before turning in the car seat to face him completely. "For instance, does she…talk to from the corner of her eye, or does she face you, head on? Does she…hmmm…pause a lot…you know,…in between words?"

"I think I may have noticed those things…"

"But, I have to warn you, she began again, her tone growing more serious. "That even if such things are present, there's the possibility of your plan falling through."

"Really…" he said, quietly, his shoulders falling slightly.

"Really." Helga affirmed, still not breaking his gaze. "Especially if she's already established in her mind that she likes you. Then any actions aimed at winning her affections would be redundant by then." she smiled.

"So, what do you suggest I do now?" he asked, concerned. The fact that his body was leaning towards hers did not go unnoticed by Helga.

"Well, I have to say, that the ball is probably in your court, at this point." she said, garnering a raised eyebrow from him. "And I know what you're thinking. You've already done so much, right? But the way I see it, it's probably your forward nature that attracted her to you in the first place, drove her to invite you to her show, and it's probably the thing that's keeping her from getting out of your car."

Derek didn't respond, thankful for their seemingly immature, but extremely helpful conversations. Cautiously, he brought his hand up to the curtain of blonde hair that fell over her shoulder. Fingering her soft jaw, Derek kept his gaze steady, until the space between them disappeared, in the form of a chaste kiss.

Without giving the impression that she meant to pull away, Helga gingerly tilted her head forward, pressing her nose to his soft cheek, and giving him better access to her willing mouth. Timidly, she moved her lips over his, allowing him to take control, which he did, without hesitation. Helga responded in stride, applying pressure to his mouth, when necessary, and drawing back slightly. Neither was keeping track of the length of their kiss, nor did they predestine a time for stopping.

However, when Derek's foot drifted from the brakes and his car roughly hit the curb, both Helga and Derek tore away from each other and reached for their respective armrests. Slamming on the brakes, Derek remained still, before speaking.

"Are you okay?"

Helga merely nodded, not entirely sure of what was going on, but aware that something interrupted a pretty fabulous kiss. From her vantage pint, she spied the pink and purple bike from their next door neighbors five year-old. 'You will pay, Little Jenna…' she thought.

Both sat quiet and mostly unmoving, assessing the situation, and how best to come out of it without looking foolish.

"So, leaving gracefully isn't really an option here, is it?" Helga asked, still clutching her armrest.

"I'm afraid not." Derek said, smiling.

"…Good to know." Helga said, opening the door (after fumbling with the handle) and lifting herself from the car. She wasn't sure if she wanted Derek walking her to her door that night, fearing he'd see something that escaped his attention in the dark, that would alter his perception of her. Like fear, or anxiety. Or a nose goblin. "Goodnight." she said, before closing the door behind her. As she made her way up the walkway, she heard a door opening, and Derek calling her name.

"Yeah?' she asked, stopping to turn around.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked, whispering to her, despite their distance.

"Why are you whispering?" she asked, maintaining her tone.

"I was watching TV yesterday, and I saw one of you dads commercials. Dancing with you was great, but something tells me I don't want to tango with a man whose belt is _that _big." he joked.

Helga laughed, imagining her father's ridiculous belt, that was supposed to bring good luck. "Fear not, he's in Memphis for the weekend." she answered. "And, if you must know, I have no plans for tomorrow."

"Sounds great. I'll be over at five-thirty. Dress for the cold." he said, before slipping back into his car, starting it, and driving away.

Helga watched him depart, humming a nameless tune to herself as she unlocked the door. Her usual sadness at returning from a recital to an empty home was forgotten. She made her way to her room, remembering then that she had forgotten everything of hers in Gerald's car. Once again her eyelids began to fall, and she halfheartedly changed into a large T-shirt and climbed into bed.

She'd call Phoebe the next morning and retrieve her things then. As thankful as he was for it, Helga had a feeling that she wouldn't need a plaque to remember that night.

* * *

__

Nice chapter, non? Oui, oui, tres magnifique. Anyway, I liked it tons, and you should too. I'm having way too much fun writing Arnold's reactions to Derek and Helga. Way too much. The next chapter is going to be very…something. But if you lied this one, then you'll love the next one.

I'm kind of mad at myself; I wrote Helga's dance and did not expect it to turn out as well as it did. And since there's going to be descriptions to more dance sequences, I'm going to have to make them better and better with time. But that one (the song, by the way, is called "Don't Cry" by Olivia Broadfield. It is amazing. ) is really good; I know I'll have a hard time topping it.

I really wante dto emphasize Helga's being "torn" between Arnold and Derek, in this capter. Like, she still has hr "moments" wit Arnol, but can't help being swept away by Derek. And, the lyrics are centered in the middle portion of the chapter; leaving them as they were made it looked lik they were spoken words.

I just notice, I technically have two leading protagonists: Leslie and Viola. I know which one I like better, but I'd like to now what you guys think. And not much Art Imitating Life here…I mentioned a bison very briefly up there. Over the past few days, my little brother has asked me to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender with him, like…a million times. And at first, I was like, no…it's too complicated…it's boring…I have to finish this chapter of 'Awkward'", but I gave in. No lies, an hour into that show and I was hooked. Not Hey Arnold hooked, because that's a completely different level of obsession. But I do really like it. I'm even putting pairings together. None of them are very canon, which infuriates my brother, but they make me smile. It's a pretty great show, and the movie is premiering tomorrow, so, check that out.

I'm going salsa dancing with some friends tomorrow, which is a good thing and a bad thing. It's good because…I can use I for my story (I'm not very good at it, so however Helga does in the story is how I will have done), but bad because…I'm bad at it. And did I tell you guys? I have an Arnie. He's weird, and bad at talking to people, and, apparently, he likes me. It's so strange. I was telling my sister, "He probably counts things and collects lint, and…and…chews plain flavored gum." Hopefully he's not there, and I will have a half-decent time pretending to know how to salsa. Anyway, there's more inspiration. Gotta love it.

As for the next chapter, there may be a tiny delay. You see, I have a special prezzie for two of y most favoritest people on this site, and I will be posted within the week. So, I'll be written that and The Compromise and Awkward, at the same time. Awkward and "The Undisclosed Story of Amazingness" , are both relatively short (8 chapters or less), so they won't take away from The Compromise too much. Alright, enough of my talking. Hope you enjoyed!

-PointyObjects


	15. Don't You Dare Ask Questions

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 14: Don't You Dare Ask Questions**

"_I probably shouldn't say this: _

_But at times I get so scared, _

_When I think about the previous _

_Relationship we shared. _

_It was awesome, _

_but we lost it… _

_It's not possible for me not to care…" _

_Miley Cyrus_

"_7 Things"_

_(What? I told y'all I like Miley Cyrus, I don't know why you're sitting there looking so surprised…just read the story…)_

* * *

Further wrapping herself up in the myriad of blankets that adorned her bed, Helga shut her eyes tighter and tried to ignore the incessant ringing that wouldn't seem to end. She skillfully knocked her alarm clock and cell phone off of her nightstand, thinking that it was either device that woke her up, but the noise continued. Groaning, Helga uncovered her head; hair in disarray and falling over her face, and looked around her room. It wasn't entirely unkempt, but she still had to watch where she stepped on the junk covered floor.

"Stroods…" she whined, awaiting the patter of hooves on the wood floor outside of her room. When her door was gently opened, and she heard her distinctive 'snort', Helga turned over in bed, falling against her pillow again. "Phone…" she whimpered again. The tiny pink and black pig merely rolled over onto it's back and continued making noise.

"If you weren't so cute, you'd be completely useless." Helga said, staring at the tiny pig on her floor. Stepping off the bed, Helga sifted through the things that littered her floor and found the house phone that would ring for ages, then stop, only to start again.

"Hello?" she asked into the receiver, already angry at the caller, whether or not they were a telemarketer.

"Hiya! Where have you been, I called like a hundred million times!" Lila asked, her mouth obviously full of something.

"I was asleep. Care to explain why you woke me up?" Helga asked, dryly, already making her way back to bed.

"Asleep? Homegirl, it's like eleven in the morning, get up!" Lila said, in disbelief.

"Thank you for that, Alarm Clock Barbie. Can I hang up now?"

"No, I was actually calling to ask if you wanted to hang out today. I'm totally riding the crimson wave, and need someone to pig out with. How about you and I double date with my good friends, Ben and Jerry?" she said, clearly having started on a carton of ice cream already.

"Wow, Lila, as if that line hasn't been used in every Lifetime Original TV movie ever made…" Helga said, hesitantly continuing. "Actually, I'm kind of going out with Derek tonight."

Lila gasped loudly into the phone. "You slut!"

Helga was taken aback, and stared at the phone for a moment. Bringing it back to her face, she said, meekly, "I'm not a slut…"

Lila chuckled to herself. "Oh, not you, Hon, I'm watching my soaps…you see Trevor was engaged to Angie, but Angie is already pregnant by Mario, who was Trevor's Siamese twin, until her father gave them the operation that separated them, only it didn't work; it turns out…"

Helga rolled her eyes, and listened halfheartedly as Lila went on. "Are you done yet?" she asked, interrupting the story.

"Whatever. Anyway, I saw _that _coming. Did you say yes right away?" she asked eagerly, excited at the possibility of someone taking her advice.

Helga thought back on the night prior. She noticed that she did happen to delay her answer for a few seconds, and smacked her forehead at following yet another tidbit of Lila's advice. "Actually, I did'nt."

"Score! You're learning much, young bender."

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, sitting atop her bed.

"Oh, it's this show my little brother watches, like, twenty-four seven. I thought it was completely stupid, but it's actually kind of cool. It's about these kids and they make fire and water and dirt move. It's crazy, and there's this one girl, who can paralyze people by punching them and stuff. Remind me to try that on Leslie tomorrow." Lila said, moving around, probably practicing paralyzing people.

"There is something profoundly wrong with you…" Helga said. "Anyway, sorry I can't pig out with you. Give my regards to the boys anyway."

"What are you talking about? I'll be over in ten." Lila stated.

"Why?"

"Because this isn't a coffee shop or a dance competition. This is a real date, and you, my dear, old friend, need real help. See ya!" she said, dropping the call. Helga sighed on the other end of the line, and turned the phone off. Looking down at her tiny animal, who found a new game in sifting through her old laundry.

"Strudel…go barricade the front door." In reply, she was met with a tiny pink face, popping up from her heap of clothing, wearing a bright green bra atop it's head. "You are so useless." she said, turning back to the bed. Before she could settle down or draw her blankets over her head, Helga heard the doorbell ring, and moaned audibly. Stomping her way out of her room, and down the stairs, opening the door quickly and without warning.

Phoebe stood in front of her, bundled up in a heavy coat, the breeze created by the door blowing her hair from her face. "Hi?" she said, quietly. "I brought my the plaques you left in Gerald's car last night."

Inviting her inside without a word, Helga shuffled to the kitchen table and let her head fall on the tabletop with a thud. "Are you okay?" Phoebe asked, sitting across from her.

"Just dandy." Helga replied, lifting her head and feigning an earnest smile.

"Well, I just came by to bring you your trophies. If you didn't have plans tonight, I'd see if we could hang out."

Helga sat up a little straighter, at Phoebe's words. Had she called her last night to tell her about Derek asking her out? "How'd you know I had plans tonight?"

"Because I was there when Arnold asked you." Phoebe answered simply.

Helga's jaw fell slack, and her open palm flew to her forehead. "Crap…" she whispering harshly to herself.

Phoebe looked confused for a moment, until realization slowly set in and her gaze turned incriminatory. "Helga… she began chidingly.

"Crap…"

"Helga?" she asked again.

"Crappity crap crap…"

"Helga, tell me you didn't!"

"I think I did!" Helga finished, clapping her hands over her face and drawing them down. "I can't believe I forgot so soon! Crap!"

"Stop saying 'crap'." Phoebe told her. "And I can't believe you forgot either! Arnold just asked you last night; what happened that made you forget so soon?"

"Well, the thing at the ice cream shop, and the giraffe made out of vanilla, and then Derek drove me home, and it just happened so fast. It was a very fast paced evening, my friend; can you blame me?"

"Technically, no, but you know what you have to do, right?"

Helga sighed. "Yeah…hope Arnold will understand!"

"Helga Pataki, you are not cancelling on Arnold!" Phoebe said, nearly about to stand up and smack her with the closest thing she could find, which was currently Strudel's leash. That would work.

Helga crossed her arms and pouted. "Why not, he's cancelled on me plenty of times before?"

"I'm fully aware of that…mostly because every time it happened, you'd call me and rant on for hours. Regardless, you have to be the bigger person and not return the favor. 'Semper et infirmi est animi exiguique voluptas Ultio.'" Phoebe finished, settling into the dining room chair.

Helga looked at her friend blankly. "Phoebe, those words mean nothing to me because I don't know what they mean. You know how I feel about being spoken to in strange languages so early in the morning…"

"It means, 'Revenge is always the weak pleasure of a little and narrow mind.'" Phoebe said.

"Are you saying that my mind is little and narrow?" Helga asked, not sounding offended.

"If your intentions are to do to Arnold what he did to you, then maybe. A little bit." she said, choosing her words somewhat carefully. Despite being Helga's best friend, she knew when to hold her tongue about Helga's vices, even if it was for her own good.

"Who says I'm trying to get revenge? Look, there's a guy, who for some strange reason, wants to hang out with me. And now, one of my best friends, who is also a guy, starts wanting to hang out with me all of a sudden, as well. I don't know if this is revenge, so much as being stuck between a rock and a hard place." Helga said, somewhat logically.

"I understand your situation, Helga. But I also know that you know that the right thing to do would be to call Derek and tell him that tonight is not a good night for you, and that you plan to reschedule in the near future."

Helga stuck out her bottom lip again and mumbled, "But he's such a good kisser…" she said in a low tone. Regardless, Phoebe heard and turned her head toward Helga questioningly.

"Who? Arnold?" she asked. Helga's silence and evasion from eye contact with her, caused her to speak again. "Derek?!" she asked, shocked.

"Understand now why I forgot?" Helga asked, smiling nervously.

"You kissed Derek?!"

"Technically, it was mutual. So, I only half-kissed him. He finished up the other half…" Helga reasoned.

Phoebe smiled, wagging her finger. "You little tramp…"

"I am not a tramp!" Helga said, picking up a dinner napkin and throwing it at her friend.

"Either way," Phoebe said, laughing. "You know what you have to do, right?"

Before Helga could respond, the doorbell rang, and she stood up to answer it. "Fine, I'll call him. And I'll have you know, Phoebe, that my mind is anything but little and narrow. If anything it's big. Big and wide." she said, opening the front door slowly.

"Well, something about you is certainly wide, but I'm not so sure it's your mind…" Lila stated, in a nasally voice, casually slipping her white sunglasses from her face, even though it wasn't very sunny outside. Helga looked momentarily stunned, before the petite girl threw her head back and laughed. "Get it? It's my impression of Leslie! Because she keeps calling you fat…" she said, looking amused.

"I believe the correct term was 'plump', Lila…" Helga said, stepping away from the door so that Lila could follow her inside.

"Whatever…" Lila said, stepping inside. "Are you still in your pajamas?" she asked, eyeing Helga from head to toe.When Helga nodded, lazily, she continued. "You need more help than I thought. When's he coming by?"

"Five-thirty."

"Any idea where you're going?" she asked, walking around Helga as though admiring a sculpture. Phoebe watched from the kitchen, shaking her head.

"No, he just said dress for the cold." Helga responded. She was still unsure whether or not Lila's presence was actually necessary.

"Hmm…" Lila said, detaching herself from Helga and moving toward the kitchen. "Phoebe!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I'm glad you're here; I'm going to need an accomplice."

"No way, I'm not being a party to this." Phoebe said, throwing up her hands in defense.

"Why not?" Lila whined.

"Ask her…" Phoebe said, leaning back in the dining room chair and pointing to Helga.

Lila looked between the two, and when neither gave in and spoke, she came to her own conclusions. "Oh, I smell drama. Tell me all about it upstairs." She said, ushering the other two girls toward the steps. "Oh, and Helga can I ask you for something?"

"Sure." Helga replied, remembering that all of this could have been avoided had she left her phone and door unanswered.

"Do you have any triple fudge ice cream? Aunt Flo demands it…if you know what I mean." Lila said.

"Unfortunately, I do…" Helga said, walking toward her and opening the freezer above her refrigerator. "I have Double-Fudge, if that's okay." When Lila whined, Helga moved toward the cupboard and pulled out a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. Pouring the contents of the bag into the carton, Helga handed it to her.

"There. Now it's triple."

* * *

"I cannot believe you actually have a pet pig. How weird." Lila said, perching herself on Helga's bed.

"Um, didn't you grow up on a farm, Little Miss Perfect?" Helga asked, brushing past Lila into her room.

"Yeah, but we raised horses and cattle. No pigs." she said. "It's no biggie, it's just weird. I mean, this is the city, and you have a pig."

Helga merely shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her tiny pet. Originally, Strudel was a combination of a present and a charity case. A year prior, Helga found a box on her doorstep, holes penetrating it on all sides. When she lifted it up, she found that it contained a living creature, and left it alone until she something blunt to hit it with, should it try to attack her. Removing the lid, she found inside a tiny, pink piglet, no bigger than her own foot, sleeping quietly. Attached was a note, from none other than Arnie, explaining that she was the runt of Abigail's most recent litter, and that if he didn't find her a home, she'd be put down. Noting that since he lived in such a rural area, the chances f him finding someone who wanted an underweight pig were slim to none, he asked for her help in finding her a home. Helga first wondered why Arnie didn't just ask Arnold to help him, but noticing the penciled hearts in the corner of the page, she figured that he may have had other ideas in mind. Helga wrote back saying that even though she still didn't want anything to do with Arnie romantically, she didn't mind keeping the tiny animal and she appreciated the "gift". Since then, Strudel had grown on her, following her around the house and into the backyard when she felt like it.

"Fo," Lila began, a mouthful of chocolate ice cream in her mouth. "Fumbody wanna fell me fwhash going on?"

"If Helga won't, I will." Phoebe said, boldly. "Helga made plans with both Derek and Arnold for tonight."

Lila swallowed the ice cream in her mouth, gasped and turned to Helga. "You're trying to eat two sandwiches at once! Naughty girl…"

"I'm not trying to eat two sandwiches at once. I made a Peanut Butter and Apple sandwich, and then a Peanut Butter and Banana sandwich, and now I have two sandwiches." Helga explained.

"So, I'm assuming that you made the Peanut Butter and Apple sandwich first?" Lila asked, mixing the chocolate chips around in the ice cream.

"Yeah." Helga said, slumping over her computer desk.

"I'm beyond confused right now." Phoebe finally said, looking back and forth between Lila and Helga. "What's this about sandwiches?"

Helga sat up again. "Ice Cream _is _Peanut Butter and Apple."

"What? What about my ice cream?" Lila asked.

"Not _your _ice cream. Arnold." Helga said.

"Arnold has ice cream?" she questioned.

"No, Arnold _is _Ice Cream."

"I thought he was a Peanut Butter and Apple sandwich…?" Lila said.

"He is." Helga stated, growing frustrated and tired.

"So, who's Peanut Butter and Jelly?" Phoebe asked.

"Jelly? Is there someone _else_?" Lila asked.

"No! There's no Jelly! Just Bananas and Apples!"

"And Ice Cream?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, and Ice Cream."

"So, is Derek Ice Cream?" Lila inquired.

"No! Arnold is Ice Cream!" Helga said, exasperated.

"Can Derek be Ice Cream too?" Lila asked.

"No! Arnold has been Ice Cream since…forever." Phoebe said.

"Well, apparently, Arnold has also been a sandwich for a while too, and that hasn't stopped Helga from considering _other _sandwiches." Lila stated.

"Fine, Derek can be Ice Cream too." Helga said, nearly giving up.

"Well, if he's going to be Ice Cream," Lila started, matter-of-factly. "And Arnold is Ice Cream too, then they'll need individual flavors."

"What for?" Helga asked.

"Because Derek has his own sandwich…flavor."

"Fine! Derek can have his own ice cream flavor! Are you happy?!"

"Well, we have to pick a good one. Boysenberry is nice. Or maybe a sorbet, since he's so sweet."

"Gelato is sweet." Phoebe pointed out.

"But gelato isn't so much ice cream, as it's Italian Ice with Ice Cream on top." Lila said, tapping her chin.

"And on the bottom. They put it on the bottom too…" Phoebe said.

"Well, if it's on the top _and _bottom, then it's about as much ice cream as Italian ice, right?"

"I suppose."

"That one may work. Then it's settled. Arnold is Ice Cream, but Derek is Gelato. Helga do you know if Derek is Italian?" Lila asked.

"That's it! No more Sandwiches, no more Ice Cream, no more Gelato! Derek and Arnold will hereby be referred to as Derek and Arnold! The end!" Helga said, standing up and waving her arms around.

Lila paused, staring at her fuming friend, before speaking. "No need to have a cow, Helga. Calm down." she said. "All food matters aside, what are you going to do? Ice-App-Arnold is probably still planning to go out with you tonight."

"I know. The right thing to do, " Helga began, shooting Phoebe a venomous look. "Would be to call Derek and cancel, since I made plans with Arnold first." Lila pouted at this, hoping to have the opportunity to slather Helga in makeup and glitter.

"You don't have to tell him why you're cancelling; just let him know you'll reschedule." Phoebe suggested, her tone changing from incriminating to helpful. "Trust me, if Derek likes you as much as I think he does, he won't be deterred by something like this. And, you'll get the chance to talk with Arnold one on one, which I know you've been dying to do."

Helga picked up her phone, but paused after Phoebe finished speaking. "Do you really think he likes me?" she asked earnestly.

Phoebe and Lila exchanged looks and answered in unison, "Duh!" Phoebe continued with her thoughts, while Lila rolled her eyes at Helga's lack of awareness. "Even though I'm a little biased, I have to say, he didn't set off any warning bells last night-"

"Hold on. Pause, rewind, play." Lila said, standing up from Helga's bed. "What happened last night?"

Phoebe then launched into the story of Helga's suddenly ill partner, who was replaced by Derek, followed by Helga's stellar final performance, their excursion to Slausen's, and ended with Derek granting Helga a ride home, to the slight protests of Arnold. "So, let me get straight: Derek is perfect. Am I right?"

Helga paused. From what she saw so far, Derek was pretty close, but she wasn't entirely certain that it was earnest. If it wasn't, she reasoned, he was pretty good at making it seem that way. He hadn't so much as slipped up and mentioned a girlfriend, or criminal past in the span of Helga knowing him. "I don't think he's perfect,-"

"So, what would you do if Arnold did all that stuff?" Lila asked, flaunting a brief moment of profound thought.

"To be honest…" Helga began, falling on the bed past Lila. "I'd be more confused than I am right now."

"Confused?" Lila questioned, resuming her seat next to Helga on the bed. "Why, do you still like Arnold?"

"Of course I do! I'm just really confused right now!" Helga said, punching a bright blue pillow to the left of her head. "It's just so frustrating! One moment I'm his friend, then I'm his girlfriend, then we're just 'talking', then we're aloof acquaintances, and then it's starts all over again, and I don't know what to do." she said. "And then, there are the girls.

"They're all smart, or gorgeous, or…something that I obviously am _not_, and he just…falls all over them! It doesn't make any sense!"

Phoebe paused, realizing that Helga was going through a bit more than she was letting on at times. Phoebe noticed the difference in behavior that Arnold exhibited when alone with Helga, as opposed to how he was with others, who were not within their close-knit circle of friends.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Phoebe asked.

"A couple of times. But it always comes out like I'm the concerned little sister, not the slightly jealous best friend." Helga said, sitting up. "It's complicated."

"Well, I think you should tell him all this stuff, and let him know that you're not going to be around forever, and that there are other sandwiches and ice creams out there, who would break their own arm to go out with you." Lila said, matter of factly.

Helga looked dryly at her companion. "What did I say about food analogies?"

"I'm serious, maybe he doesn't know because you've never told him. Maybe he just needs you to come out and say it. Boys aren't as smart as girls, sometimes." Lila stated.

"True." Helga said, nodding. "I guess it would make sense to do that…" Helga said out loud, reaching for her phone on her nightstand.

"I think you're doing the right thing, Helga." Phoebe said, from her seat across the room, smiling a the possibility of reconciliation between her friends.

* * *

"And _I_ think, you're making a huge mistake."

"How is hanging out with my best friend a huge mistake?" Arnold asked, shooting the ball and watching as it bounced around the hoop before falling in.

"So that's all that's gonna go down?" Gerald asked, skeptically. "The two of you are just going to talk and chill and take photos all night?"

"Actually, the job called and said they found someone else to do it for a lower price." Arnold said, wiping his brow. It wasn't hot out, but he and Gerald met up and had been playing for the better part of an hour.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Hang out..." Arnold said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I still don't see why this is a big deal…"

Gerald rolled his eyes. He knew that Arnold was attempting to sidestep why he was still planning to see Helga that night. Whether it was his jealousy over the closeness between Derek and Helga after such a short amount of time, or just his misguided attempts at friendship with her, Gerald felt the need to educate his friend, in the only way he knew how. Tough love.

"Arnold, you may be able to pull that jazz on other people, but you forget how long I've known you. Do don't think I saw how you were acting last night?"

"What are you talking about?" Arnold said, feigning confusion, and taking a seat on a nearby bench. The basketball was completely clear of any other life, so the two decided against a one on one game, and just opted for shooting hoops, lazily.

"Arnold, you practically had fire coming out of your ears the entire time! That's what I'm talking about!" Gerald said, before calming himself down and taking a seat next to Arnold. "If I noticed, don't you think Helga would?"

'Seemed like she didn't take notice of anything besides Derek, last night…' he silently fumed. Painting on a face of indifference, Arnold replied. "What's there to notice? Sure, the guy got on my nerves once or twice, but why would Helga care?"

"Because you're her friend. And as much as she'll deny it, your opinion of her matters. I wouldn't be surprised if she even took your view of this guy into consideration before getting into anything with him." Gerald replied, leaning back.

"I think you're reading too much into this. Besides, who says Helga's going to 'get into' anything with him? Since when does Helga jump headfirst into anything?" Arnold realized the foolishness of his own words, moments after he uttered them. Helga almost _always _jumped headfirst into things. Whether it was a sports team, or hobby, or anything, Helga got drawn in, fast and deep. If she decided to actually pursue anything with Derek, Arnold thought, there would be little stopping her. And from the attention that she was already getting from Derek, Arnold saw little that would stand in her way.

On the other hand, if Gerald was right (he usually was), then his opinion of Derek could influence her one way or the other. The factor of actually using this to his advantage, was a hard decision in and of itself.

"We both know how ridiculous of a statement that was, so I choose to disregard it altogether." Gerald said, snapping Arnold out of his daze. "So, once again, what's the plan of action?"

"I'll just…let her know that 'plans' are cancelled, and if she wants to hang out, we'll hang out."

"And hopefully relieve some of that tension." Gerald suggested.

Arnold turned to his friend, looking strangely at him. "What tension?"

"This whole charade the two of you have going on. If you're gonna kiss her, do it, if not…quit acting like you want to." Gerald said, standing up. "The two of you have some serious issues. I gotta go."

"Alright." Arnold said, surrendering his own seat, and moving toward the parking lot behind Gerald. The two parted ways, initiating the ancient, and rarely used "handshake" from across the parking lot, and climbed into their respective vehicles.

Once Gerald pulled away, Arnold pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed Helga's number. He had a plan of his own for the evening, consisting mostly of talking with Helga about the status of their friendship, and possibly suggesting more. It was, in his opinion, her decision to make.

* * *

_She's a maniac, maniac on the floor _

_And she's dancing like she's never danced before…_

Helga stared at her phone, alerted by the loud music it emitted. Her eyes widened at the name on the screen, before she spoke.

"Oh crap."

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked, looking concerned.

"Arnold's calling me." Helga said, looking panicked. "Here," she said, quickly, tossing the phone to Lila. "Answer it."

"No way!" she said, tossing the phone back to her, carelessly. "That's your Almost Boyfriend! I'm not answering that!"

Helga stared at the phone before hurling it at Phoebe. "Tell him I'm in the bathroom!" she suggested.

"No! You need to tackle this!" Phoebe said, pitching it back to her.

"I can't tackle Arnold yet! I need to tackle Derek first!" she said, holding the phone like it was a hot, boiled egg.

"Answer it!" Phoebe and Lila whispered din unison, as if Arnold could hear them already.

"No…"

"Answer it!" they said again, moving toward her, in anticipation.

Helga frowned, and flipped the phone open, bringing it to her ear. "Hello?" she answered, as if the identity of the person on the other end was a mystery.

"Hey! It's me." Arnold said cheerfully.

"Hi…" Helga said, trying to sound casual. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Arnold chuckled on the other end of the phone. "I just wanted to let you know that the photo gig called, and they don't need me tonight."

"Really?! That's great!" Helga said, immediately regretting her words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, that's…great? It's just that, I-" Helga cut herself off when she looked up to find Phoebe gesturing wildly for her not to reveal anything about any other plans for the night. She was waving her arms around her petite frame, in likeness to an umpire declaring someone safe during a baseball game.

"You…what? Did you have other plans for tonight?" Arnold said, and Helga was unsure if it was slight dejection that she heard in his voice or just static. She was silently gunning for the static.

"No! I mean…I…someone asked me to hang out, but I was going to hang with you, right?" Helga said, biting her lip so hard, she could have sworn that it was bleeding.

"Yeah, but if you have other plans, that's fine. I'm sure it'd be more fun that anything I was going to come up with." Arnold said, lacing his voice with confidence. "Besides, we hang out all the time."

"Are you sure?" Helga asked, in a state of disbelief. She caught Arnold's slight annoyance with Derek the night prior, and didn't want to spark his ire by mentioning him. When she thought about it, however, she hadn't mentioned him at all. So there was the possibility that Arnold thought that she was hanging out with Lila or Phoebe (which she was, for the time being).

"Yeah. I have another call coming through. I'll catch you at school, okay?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." Helga said, pulling the phone away from her. Turning to her friends, she attempted a nervous smile. "That was surprisingly easy…"

"A little too easy, if you ask me." Phoebe said, lifting Strudel from the floor onto her lap.

"Please, you two are guilt trippin' a little too much." Lila said, waving her hand to brush off their worries. "Okay, 'Operation Bag Helga a Hot Slice of Man Pie' is back on! To the bathroom!"

* * *

"So…you basically _gave_ her away?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Arnold said, doodling halfheartedly on a scrap of paper near his computer. He leaned back in his computer chair at a dangerous angle, but cared little about that for the moment.

"I'm talking about the same thing I've been talking about since we got back from Brooklyn, man…" Gerald said, seriously. "You and Helga, dancing around each other, back and forth, back and forth. Only this time, you're the one who's left upset."

Arnold sat up, taking in Gerald's tone and words. "What do you mean 'this time, I'm the one left upset'? I wasn't upset before this?"

"Not like _this_. Not like Helga was." Arnold remained silent, waiting for Gerald to elaborate. "Listen, it's none of my business, but as your friend, and Helga's…sort of friend, I see stuff that neither of you can see. And what I saw was you doing a lot of dating, which is fine, but also, a lot of Helga waiting on you."

"Why would she wait? It's not like I was going to marry any of those girls." Arnold said, to his defense.

"First of all, girls don't think like we do. Girls see you talking to another girl and think that she's the farthest thing form your mind, even if she's not. And secondly, how was she supposed to know whether or not you were serious?"

Arnold was growing frustrated at the direction of the conversation. Gerald was making him sound like he had led Helga on for months. Even if that was the case, Helga had to have known how he felt about her in comparison to other girls. Even if 'talking' went beyond anything else, it rarely lasted more than two weeks. And after every ill-fated attempt at a relationship fizzled out, Arnold always came back to Helga. Was she completely unaware of how important she was to him?

"Look, I've gotten more involved in this that I wanted to to begin with. All I know is that you might want to keep an eye on her. It's harder to rob a heavily guarded home. Later man." Gerald concluded, before hanging up.

"A heavily guarded home?" Arnold said out loud, abandoning the phone. Sitting alone for a few minutes, he pushed himself up from his seat and retrieved his scar keys from atop his bed. He'd figure out the meaning to Gerald's words later. Right now he had to look after a certain recently abandoned house.

* * *

"Breath?"

"Check."

"Teeth"

"Check."

"Hair."

Helga wrinkled her forehead. "Do you mean '"Hair?" as in, "Is it there?" or "Hair?" as in "Is it in order?" she asked.

Lila looked stumped for a minute. "Both, I guess…"

"Check."

Before Lila could mutter off another feature from her list, the doorbell rang. Turning to Helga with a slight look of panic on her face, she spoke. "Okay, he's at the door, and you're already prepared. Count to eight, slowly open the door, and the rest is magic." Lila said, gesturing around Helga's face like her fairy godmother.

"Whatever." Helga said, walking past Lila to open the door. Lila ran back upstairs to watch their exchange from the window. At the top of the stairs stood Phoebe, a mixture of contentment and anxiety on her face.

"Okay, tell Auntie Lila what's wrong?" Lila sang, approaching Phoebe.

"This isn't going to go well." she answered simply.

"What are you talking about? The outfit is flawless, her breath is fresh, and I got about four pounds of dirt from under her fingernails. I call that a success."

"I meant with Arnold. How do you think _he's _going to take it?"

"I'm sure Helga's feelings filtered through his mind when he was sauntering off into the night with some _bimbo_ on his arm." Lila said, leaning over the window, watching Helga greet Derek with a smile. "There's no harm in letting her have some fun. Arnold will understand."

Phoebe stood next to her, and the two watched as Derek opened Helga's car door for her and she climbed in. "I hope so…" Phoebe replied, after he closed her door , and rounded the car to get inside as well. They watched as the black car made a three-point turn, and headed in the opposite direction of which it came and left the street.

"Is there anymore of that ice cream left?" Phoebe asked, pushing herself off of the window ledge.

"I'm afraid not. We can still raid the fridge, though." Lila said, still smiling and watching them turn another corner and disappear completely from sight.

"Sounds like a plan." Phoebe said, Lila following her closely back down the stairs.

As closely as Lila watched Derek's car going down the street, she failed to notice another car, similar in color and size parked at the neck of Helga's street, engine turned off and the car silent. The vehicle blended with the other parked cars nearby, except for the young man sitting inside, witnessing more than he was meant to.

Gerald's words echoed in his head.

""It's hard to rob a heavily guarded home."

Unless you gave someone else the key.

* * *

_And that my friends, is what we call a filler chapter. Hope it was remotely entertaining, if nothing else. I don't mind it so much any more. I would have added the actual date, but that'd be too long, and I don't like dragging things out (so says she who just posted a filler chapter). _

_Good news, people! I have taken it upon myself to create a website, dedicated to all the extra things regarding my fan fiction and other various writing projects. I made it today, so it's pretty new, but I've got some nice stuff for the Compromise up there. That's right, people: __**PICTURES**__! I've got virtually everybody so far: Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe, Derek, Helga…even some minor characters that you may have forgotten about. And they all have their little bios and everything! The link is on my profile, so go and check it out please!! I worked really hard on it, and I'd appreciate some love. _

_Next update is __Roses__! It's a good one, I promise. Give it a little while, though. I updated twice in one day, and I feel like it's over kill. Anyway, hope you enjoyed (and check out my site!). Bye!_

_-PointyObjects_


	16. Just Sign on The Dotted Line

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 15: Just Sign On The Dotted Line**

"_You're standing at the door, _

_I'm falling to the floor ,_

_You look even better than you did before. _

_I'm staring at my feet,_

_Wondering if I can do this. _

_It's been a while but I couldn't forget you… _

_Just a little look has got me feeling things, _

_Just a little touch has got me seeing things, _

_Just a little taste has got me off the chains, _

_Doing things that I don't want to…"_

_Nelly Furtado_

"_Do It" _

* * *

"Sorry that I'm so horrible at this…"

"Stop saying that." Derek said, sitting down next to Helga on the cold, metal bench. "You're only as horrible as you tell yourself that you are."

Helga raised an eyebrow and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Are _you _saying that I'm horrible?" she asked.

"Hey, you said it, not me." Derek replied, putting his arms up in a defensive way, and smiling.

Helga shook her head, and watched the other patrons of the ice skating rink proceeded to glide around, effortlessly. The ice skating rink wasn't terribly busy; most patrons used the inclement weather to take advantage of the outdoor rinks, leaving the indoor ones with far less clientele. So, when Derek pulled up to the old ice rink, Helga was excited, seeing as he had finally seemed to choose a date that wouldn't make her look like a complete idiot.

She was sadly mistaken.

After many moons of being mostly single, Helga was used to skating in one direction: forward. And on the rare occasions that she did skate along with someone else (Phoebe hated the cold and rarely went on any such excursions), the other person was a friend, who didn't mind being looked at from the side. In this case, Derek was much more accustomed to skating facing the other person. In her youth, Helga remembered having he ability to skate backwards, but the skill quickly evaporated and left her staring at her feet while she attempted to move backwards gracefully. The result was not pretty.

"Did you hear me?" Derek asked, leaning forward, to get Helga's attention. Realizing that she allowed her mind to aimlessly wander, Helga widened her gaze, and focused on the person in front of her. Allowing her eyelids to fall slightly, she inhaled and breathed in the slightest scent of clothing detergent. It reminded her of clean laundry, which caused her mind to drift even further from the subject at hand.

"Helga…?" Derek asked, growing somewhat concerned. Here eyes were half-closed and slightly vacant for a moment, and he wondered if she was tired. The date, was after all, impromptu, and she could have been exhausted from such a long and eventful weekend.

"Yes?" she answered enthusiastically, to hide the fact that she was drifting off again.

"I'm gonna go use the bathroom. Are you going to be okay?" he asked, easing himself off of the seat.

Helga nodded in response, and waited until he walked away to let her head drop. Sighing heavily, she spoke to herself. "I scared him off…perfect…"

"I doubt that."

The voice sent Helga falling backward on the bench, with nothing to support her back until she met with the uncomfortable rubber matting of the ice rink. "Owww…"

"Are you okay?" came a voice from above her, and after lying still for a few moments, Helga opened her eyes and looked up, meeting with a pair of bright blue eyes, hidden by a long curtain of dark brown hair. Sitting up, the small face moved aside, watching her interestingly.

Helga repositioned herself on the bench, and rubbed her head, still staring at the young girl. The two remained silent, staring at each other, until Helga turned around in her seat, attempting to find a distraction from the little girl that was staring at her so vehemently.

"Hi." she said enthusiastically from behind Helga.

"Hey." she responded monotonously, not bothering to turn around. Aside from not being able to skate backwards and nearly falling in front of the guy that she liked, she was now being stalked by a creepy little girl. The evening was shaping up to be a fabulous one, so far.

"Why aren't you skating?" she asked simply. The little girl leaned forward on her fists, propping herself up on her knees and continued staring at Helga as though she had two heads.

"Because I'm not very good at it." Helga replied.

"I can teach you how to skate, if you want." the little girl said, standing. Helga then noticed that the 'little girl', wasn't actually very little. Regardless, Helga didn't know her name, and resigned to call her "The Weird Little Girl" in her head. Or WLG for short.

"Umm.." she replied, thinking of a reason why she could possibly stay in her seat and avoid making a fool of herself anymore than she had already.

"Please?" Little Girl asked, clasping her hands together and begging. Helga figured that she had come alone to the rink, and didn't have anyone else to skate with. That was the only logical reasoning that she could think of that would make the little girl so eager to be around someone she did not know.

"Fine." she said, begrudgingly, lifting herself up from the bench. Ice skating rinks had a way of making Helga feel perpetually wet, even when she was not. Loosening her muscles, she shot one last glance at the corridor hiding the bathrooms from sight, hoping that her excursion wouldn't be terribly long. So far, she wasn't able to have a decent conversation with Derek, due to frequent interruptions. Either a small child skated in between them, or it was "Senior Skate" and they had to leave the ice, only to take a seat on the cold, metal benches with all the other under 65 year-old skaters. Or Helga fell, making the situation astounding awkward.

"Hey, you _can _skate!"

Helga looked toward WLG, and realized that she walked herself onto the ice without knowing it. Falling into the pace of 'traffic' she absentmindedly shifted from one foot to the other and ignored the comment.

"I thought you said you weren't very good at this."

"I can skate forward just fine; it's backward that kills me." she admitted.

The Weird Little Girl gasped. "I know how to skate backwards!" she said, before swiftly turning on both skates, and moving backward effortlessly. Helga face fell, along with her shoulders at eh display in front of her. "Do you want me to teach you?" she asked enthusiastically.

"I am utterly hopeless; you'd be wasting your time." Helga said, exhaling.

The Little Girl looked at her seriously. "Think of yourself as on the threshold of unparalleled success. A whole, clear, glorious life lies before you. Achieve! _Achieve_!" she said, turning back to face forward in her movement, and throwing her hands up.

Helga skated forward as well, stunned. "Did you just make that up yourself?" she asked.

"No." the Little Girl admitted. "Andrew Carnegie did. But my cousin says that a lot; when he has to motivate himself to do something."

Helga shrugged. The name, Andrew Carnegie, sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Your cousin sounds pretty smart."

"He is…you should meet him." she suggested.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks; I'm not in the habit of being set up by a twelve year old." she said, smiling, the let her know that she was just joking.

"I'm fourteen, for your information!" she joked back. "And I think you'd like him…"

"That's okay." Helga said, lifting one skate up in front of her. "I'm here with…a person, anyway." What _was _Derek to her? What was _she _to him? She distracted herself with these questions for a few silent moments.

"You have a boyfriend?" the little girl asked, excitedly.

"No...I have a friend. Who happens to be a boy," Helga explained. The conversation was growing more and more complicated as the two looped around the rink.

"But he's not your _boyfriend_?" she asked.

"He's…we just…it's very…are you going to teach me to skate backwards or not?" she asked, immediately changing the conversation, but smiling nonetheless.

"Fine, fine…" the young girl said, moving to skate next to Helga. "So, I'll play the role of your Boy That's A Friend, But Isn't Your Boyfriend, okay? And you will just play yourself. What's your name, anyway?"

Helga almost laughed at the fact that she had a conversation with someone considerably younger than her, and they hadn't even exchanged names yet. "My name is Helga." Before she could ask the girl what her name was, she began speaking again.

"Alright then." she replied. "Why Helga, you look very becoming in that sweater." the girl then said, dropping her voice and sounding ridiculously a bad Santa Claus impersonator.

"What are you doing?" Helga asked.

"I'm getting into my role. I can't play your Boy That's A Friend, But Isn't Your Boyfriend if I sound like a girl. Now just go with it."

"Fine…thanks, Derek. That's a nice…coat you have on?" Helga said, not falling into her "role" as well…even if it was just to play herself.

"Derek, oh that's a nice name. Anyway, the DJ comes on the loudspeaker, and says that it's couple's skate, so all you guys grab a girl, and hit the ice!"

"Are you playing the role of the DJ as well?" Helga asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Back to our lesson. So, to skate backwards, you want to, without lifting up your foot at all, shift your weigh tot your inside foot, turn your outside foot in slightly and pivot on the inside foot. Understand?"

Helga watched the girl's tiny feet moving around, illustrating her words, and trying to follow along. "Maybe this is a bad idea."

"Just try it." she said, holding out her left hand, which was closest to Helga and nudging her to give it a shot.

Attempting to concentrate, Helga took the girl's thin arm and exhaled, watching her feet and shifted her weight. Accidentally lifting her foot off of the ice, she swayed to regain her posture, and wobbled into the backward position, and found herself surprised at her ability to remain standing. Meeting the little girl's eyes, she found her beaming at her teaching skills.

"You're doing it!" she exclaimed.

Helga matched her enthusiasm and smiled.

"Now turn back around."

Helga's face dropped. "Turn around? How do I do that?" she asked, bewildered.

"Just do the same thing that you did before." she answered, simply.

"I forgot what I did before! What'd I do?!" Helga asked, beginning to wobble again. Her nervousness was beginning to take over again, and she couldn't help but feel as though she were under Derek's scrutiny again.

"Just pivot your left leg around your right one and…"

She never finished her instructions. Both skaters were looking at Helga's feet and failed to notice the nine year-old bent over, retying his skates in the middle of the ice. Helga struck the child first, flying backwards and sliding on the ice, while her young companion leaned forward on he skates and stopped just a few inches in front of the boy.

Apologizing to the kid (who sat, surprisingly unharmed), and skating around to where Helga lay, the young girl knelt down in front of her and stared down at her shocked face. Her mouth hung open as I f she wanted to scream or cry or say something, but she didn't. A crowd began to gather, and Helga's eyes dotted from one unfamiliar face to another.

"Are you okay, Helga?" the little girl asked.

Again, her mouth moved but she said nothing. One after the other, patrons began repeating the question, some so bold as to use her name, even though they didn't know who she was. They eventually died down, and from one side, the crowd began to split. Helga tried to shake her head, but a dull throbbing resulted from that, and she ceased moving immediately.

"Are you alright, Helga?" came a lone voice from behind her. Tiling her head up, despite the paint hat followed, Helga stared into the upside down, but never the less, serious face of Derek.

Sighing, she answered, halfheartedly. "Amazing."

* * *

"How's your head?" Derek asked, taking a seat next to Helga cautiously. He was aware that ice was one of the most unforgiving surfaces, and Helga hit her head pretty hard. He was somewhat surprised that she didn't come up with a concussion.

"It's fine." she replied, wincing. Gingerly holding the ice pack to the back of her head, Helga once again, cursed her terrible luck in regards to Derek. When alone, she was fine. She could talk to him without feeling like an idiot, walk without tripping and speak without feeling like her tongue was going to fall out of her mouth. She surmised that there was something about being out with Derek that unnerved her to the point of falling down so many times in the span of one evening.

"I think you should apologize." Derek said, louder than Helga anticipated. With her eyes tightly closed, she figured that he words were for her. Opening her eyes and looking at him in the face, she was prepared to ask him what she had to apologize for when another voice came from behind her.

"It was an accident…" the little dark-haired girl said, looking sheepish.

"Regardless…" Derek said to her, and Helga tried to keep the pain from her face as her head snapped back and for the between the two.

"I'm sorry if I made you fall, Helga." she said, narrowing her eyes at Derek.

"Wait a minute," Helga began, dropping her hands and the ice pack into her lamp and looking confused. "How do you two-" Helga began, before the young girl interrupted her.

"I told you that you'd like my cousin…"

_Cousin? _Helga's mouth hung open momentarily. She looked back at Derek, wearing a look of evident shock, as he merely shrugged at her, also at a loss for words.

"Helga, this is Stephanie…my cousin."

"Your…cousin?" Helga repeated. After a moment of utter and complete confusion, Helga realized that it actually made sense. Derek mentioned his cousin Stephanie to her numerous times, and she figured it was only a matter of time until the two met. Not to mention the same thick, dark hair, piercing eyes (even though his were brown and hers were blue) and the Andrew Carnegie quotes, she figured that she should have noticed it earlier. "Well, I'm just going to go crawl under a rock now." she finished, flashing a weary smile.

"Why don't I…go get us some hot coca. Stephanie will you come with me, please?" Derek said, the slightest bit of edge in his voice when addressing his cousin.

"Nope. I'll stay here." she replied, waving Derek off. Once he was a few feet away, heading toward the long concession line, Stephanie noticed that Helga was conspicuously silent. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, somewhat abruptly.

"Nothing." Helga replied, monotonously.

"Are you not going to speak to me because I'm Derek's cousin?" she asked.

Helga turned in her seat and faced Stephanie, smiling to let her know that she wasn't upset. "No." she replied, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It's just that…I have a knack for embarrassing myself when in the presence of your cousin."

"Like how?" Stephanie implored, scrunching her nose.

"Like, the first time we went out, I hit him in the face with a price gun, and then admitted that I liked him to my own cousin and eccentric aunt, right before I found out that I had a price sticker on my face. With the help of his friend, and mine, we were both publicly humiliated in a room of strangers. And that was just he first date." Helga said.

"Well, one the bright side, he likes you, even if you embarrass yourself. _A lot_." she said, shrugging her shoulders and smiling. "And you're probably thinking, 'How does she know if he likes me?' Right?"

"Pretty much." Helga said, running a hand through her hair, mussing the curls that Lila worked hard to achieve. There was little left of them after falling on the ice, and she silently hoped that Lila wouldn't be waiting at home to berate her about her appearance.

"He told me how much you like to write. And that you're a dancer. And how funny you are." she said, shifting atop the metal bench.

"Okay, so…he told you about me? That means that he likes me?" Helga asked, somewhat confused.

"He usually doesn't tell me about a girl unless he likes her. And he definitely doesn't annoy me with everything about her unless he _really _likes her." she said, sitting back.

"Oh…" Helga whispered. This was the third time someone told her that Derek liked her, and the pill was getting easier and easier to swallow as time went on. She could tell that whatever feelings she had for Derek were definitely being reciprocated, but something still ate away at her. Aside from consistently embarrassing herself when around Derek, she noticed that they were rarely…alone. She didn't mind it too much; it wasn't as if she expected him to take her midnight sailing while they sipped champagne. Immediately turning on herself, she thought that maybe he didn't _want _to be alone with her. Even she had to admit that it was easier to converse with him when friends (either hers, or his) were present also.

"So what do we talk about now?" Stephanie asked, moving from the bench behind Helga to sit next to her.

Smiling, Helga decided that she liked Stephanie, and searched her mind for something to talk to a fourteen year old about. "Um…do you like The Jonas Brothers?" she asked, grasping at straws.

Stephanie wrinkled her eyebrows. "You think that just because I'm fourteen that I automatically like The Jonas Brothers?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"No, I think that because you have a Jonas Brothers T-shirt on that you automatically like them." Helga retorted, mimicking Stephanie and putting her hands on her hips.

"Touché." she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Derek said if I get all A's he's going to buy me tickets to their concert. You should come."

Helga's eyes widened at the thought. A perfect third date: escorting a fourteen year old to an arena of other, crazed, fourteen year olds screaming at a bunch of fourteen year olds attempting to sing. To her aide came Derek, holding a cardboard tray of three identical cups of steaming hot cocoa. Handing them out, he sat next to Helga, attempting to assess the situation before speaking.

"So, what'd you two find to talk about?" he asked, cautiously.

Helga and Stephanie turned to look at him and, in unison, answered, "The Jonas Brothers."

Rolling his eyes, Derek replied. "I should have known." Turning his attention, momentarily, to Stephanie, he questioned her. "Hey, Squirt, do you have a ride home?"

"Yup." she said, pulling her sleeve up to reveal none other than a Jonas Brothers wristwatch. "Mom's probably outside now. See you later." she said, walking sideways out of the seating area and leaving the teens alone together.

Helga cringed at the awkward silence that enveloped the two. On the on hand, she was still contemplating how best she could get a moment with Derek, without a studio audience, while at the same time, wondering if he'd want to be alone with her at all. The evening was nearly over, and Helga blamed her own nervousness on the awkwardness of the night.

'Maybe I can turn things around…' she thought, biting her lip and staring again at the ice. 'Maybe he's not mad, and just wants to talk. Maybe we can-'

"Are you ready to head out?" Derek asked, quietly, interrupting Helga's thoughts.

Her shoulders slumped, as did her face, but she answered in stride. "Sure." Gathering her few belongings, she followed Derek out of the ice skating rink and into the bitter cold of the evening. Wordlessly, the two made their way to his car and entered. For a moment, Helga was angry. It was almost as if he planted his little cousin there to see if she was "worthy" or something. At the same time, he could have done so because, as she earlier surmised, that he didn't want to be alone with her. If that was the case, Helga wondered, what was it about her that made him so apprehensive to spend time with her. For a moment, she wondered if she should have gone to Arnold with her concerns, as opposed to Lila and Phoebe. Rethinking that, she presumed the awkwardness of the conversation that would ensue and was glad that she decided against it.

"This isn't what I expected…at all…" Derek said quietly from the driver's seat. Looking over, Helga couldn't read the look on his face. At first she thought that it may have been remorse, but that thought diminished when she realized that he had no reason to feel remorseful. Before she could open her mouth to say something, Derek spoke up again. "I'm not sure what it is…I…I'm sorry."

Helga was about to agree when his words hit her. 'He's sorry?' she asked, wondering what he could be sorry for. "Why are _you _sorry?"

"Because, every time I try to plan some time to just sit down and get to know you, something happens. Either one of us gets embarrassed, and the night is ruined, or both of us get embarrassed and the night is ruined-"

"Or one of us trips over a small child and gets embarrassed…" Helga said, allowing a smile to grace her face. The tension in the car dissipated as the two laughed. "Do you want to know what I think?" Helga asked.

"What?"

"I think, that if the both of us just stop trying to not embarrass ourselves, then we won't. I mean, ever since I met you, I've been trying not to look like an idiot, and that's about all I've been doing lately. So what do you say? No more trying?" Helga asked, feeling suddenly candid.

"Deal. No more trying." Derek replied, switching lanes. Helga's home was a few miles away, but it was still early, and neither really wanted the evening to end so soon. "Are you hungry?" Derek asked, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at her.

Helga's eyes widened. She didn't realize how hungry she was until he said something, and she sighed dramatically in response. "Yes, I'm starving. What'd you have in mind?"

"Heaven."

* * *

Wow. Two filler chapters in a row. That must be some kind of record. To be truthful, I didn't want to write about their date, because I'm one of those people who like to get to the drama quickly. I want to see the results right away, and all this in betweeny stuff is boring. But it's necessary for progression and all that stuff, so I do it. The next chapter will be soo good. I'm not even lying. It's going to be great. And I'm sorry about the lack of Arnold in this chapter. He'll pretty much be the focus fof the next...4 chapters. Good stuff on the way.

There's a new poll on my profile for this story. It's not serious; just for fun...Pick your side. Please and Thank You.

The Jonas Brothers...what can I say? I spent a lot of time with 13 year olds.

In other news…I think Awkward is next for an update, so that'll be soon. And then Roses after that. I went to my (first) concert ever this week, and I was screaming so much, that the next day, my throat was really sore. Well, from there, I got an earache, and then the other ear started hurting, and now my back and arms and neck hurt, so I'm thinking that it was more than just the concert. But you guys know what happens when I get sick…I write! So yay for…whatever I've got that's keeping me in bed. Thanks for reading!

-PointyObjects


	17. Step Two

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 16: Step Two**

"_Oh, there's a little bit of psycho in me, _

_I confess…_

_Why'd you wanna pick on me, _

_And not the rest?_

_Does it make you feel big?_

_Does it make you feel clever?_

_So tell me how's the weather?_

_If I just had a little bit more time _

_I'd get some duct tape and silverware _

_Oh, if I just had a little bit more time…"_

_Amy Studt_

"_Ladder in My Tights"_

* * *

Munching on a spoonful of cereal, Helga was somewhat taken aback when a half-folded newspaper was dropped on the table in front of her. Miriam Pataki rounded the table and stood in front of her daughter, the look on her face difficult to read. Helga raised an eyebrow and looked at her mother.

Remaining silent, Miriam pushed the paper closer to her daughter, and coughed into her fist, waiting for her to take it. Reaching forward tentatively, Helga opened the pages, looking for something that would peak her mother's interest. A few pages in, there was a dark picture of Helga standing alongside Thom Thassleheimer, smiling into the camera. Another picture, further down the page, showed her on stage, standing up straight, with one hand extended in front of her and one leg pointed straight behind her.

"Oh, wow," Helga said, bring the paper closer to her face. "That's a really good picture of my arabesque penchée…" she finished, not noticing the peeved look on her mother's face.

"Yes, it is." she said, moving the paper from her daughters face and meeting her eyes. "Care to explain why neither of your parents were present to experience this arabes…_whatever_, firsthand?"

Helga shifted her mouth to one side of her face, and looked around, as if searching her mind for an alibi. "Umm….nope." she said, quickly removing herself from the table to deposit her dirty dishes into the sink.

"Helga…" her mother said.

"What? Dad was flying off to Memphis, and you had a dinner with a bunch of psychologists, or whatever…it didn't seem like the right time to remind you of my recital." she said, moving her spoon around the now empty bowl. "It's really not a big deal."

"You won four awards! How is that 'not a big deal'?"

"It's not like you'd have come, anyway…" she muttered to herself.

"Hey," Miriam said, moving across the kitchen. "I heard that. And yes, I would have come…why would you even say that?" she asked, sounding hurt.

Helga didn't want to hurt her mother, but the reality that they would forget either way, was more than likely. In reality, she _did _tell them; it just wasn't important for them to be there, or enough so that she put up a fight.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't really matter." she said, exiting the kitchen. "By the way, I made Varsity Volleyball . I have practice after school." she said, before closing the door behind her and leaving her mother standing alone in the kitchen. Shaking the image of her mother from her mind, Helga advanced to her car and planned her day. She knew her first practice with the Volleyball team would be hard, just for the sake of the team breaking in the new members. She hoped that Leslie wouldn't push the company too hard that afternoon, so that she could save her energy for proving her worth to the team. Walking into the unexpected sunlight of the early morning, Helga smiled, getting the feeling that the day was looking up.

* * *

Walking into the unexpected humidity of the dance studio, Helga grimaced getting the feeling that the day was going downhill.

"Perfect…just who I wanted to see…" Leslie said, looking smug and waving Helga over to where she and Lila were standing. Lila looked panicked and scared, not entirely sure of what Leslie was planning. Helga set her bags down near the door, taking note of the plain, brown paper bags lining the wall of the dance studio. None of the girls had been ordered to change into their dance apparel, as they were all still wearing their regular school clothes.

Something was about to go down.

Standing in front of the company alongside Lila and Leslie, Helga shoved her hands in her pockets and waited for Leslie to say something to company, implying that their three captains met and agreed to such a decision, when in reality, they hadn't. Leslie was very much accustomed to making decisions for everyone, and splitting the blame three ways when it didn't work out.

"Your captains have an announcement to make…" she began, and Lila and Helga exchanged looks that read, "I saw _this _coming."

"A new number has been choreographed, and your costumes in the bags are by the door. Don't worry about sizes, everyone has the same outfit. We'll be practicing downstairs in the gym, because Rosso has an important meeting in here." she said, dismissively. "Everyone be ready in five minutes." she said, as everyone in the room made their way to the door.

Lila and Helga exchanged looks before turning to Leslie and inquiring of what was going on.

"You'll see." she said, smiling wickedly at the both of them. "Like I said, all of our costumes came in the same size, but I gave the captains a little wiggle room. If you both work hard up until May, neither of you will even need it." she finished, walking away from them. "Remember, five minutes…"

After Leslie left the room, Lila stood closer to Helga, looking worried. "What do you think she's planning? She was actually smiling today, Helga. Smiling!" Lila said, looking at the remaining brown paper bags, that were inevitably theirs. Leslie went through the trouble of marking their bags with their last names, and they sat by the door like a bad omen.

"I don't know, but whatever it I, I am not wearing anything that Leslie's bought for me."

"I cannot believe that I'm wearing something that Leslie's bought for me."

Helga stood in front of the dance company, as the remaining members filed into the gymnasium, from the girls locker room. Each one that entered looked more miserable than the last, and with good reason. Practicing a number in a gymnasium that as already occupied with students was bad enough, but their "outfits" left plenty of room for humiliation to fester. Each girl donned the same white, buttoned-down shirt, intentionally cropped a few inches below the bust line to reveal a large portion of their midriffs. The skirt that each girl wore was blue and black plaid, and fell extremely low on their hips. Despite the cut of the skirt, they were still short, making it impossible for any of the girls to pull it down to hide their legs. Leslie included, along with the ensemble, a pair of tube socks that hit each dancer just below their knees, and instructed them to keep on the shoes that they wore to class.

With arms crossed, Helga watched Leslie enter the gymnasium, smiling in triumph, her own outfit fitting her effortlessly. Since she had access to all of the girl's records, Leslie was very aware of the sizes of her fellow dance company members, and Helga couldn't help but notice the rather tiny number on the inside label of her own clothing, indicating Leslie's complete disregard for the fit of her company's clothing. On the other hand, Lila was trying desperately to keep her skirt as low as possible; her eyes focused on the twenty or so boys on the other side of the gym, no doubt taking notice of the scantily clad girls before them.

Standing in between Lila and Helga, and effectively ignoring their looks, Leslie spoke, holding her chin up and speaking proudly. "Glad to see that everyone was able to _squeeze _into their costumes today. Regardless, this doesn't overshadow the fact that you are all drastically and noticeably out of shape. It's a disgrace that the epitome of athleticism and grace in this school is so…so…" she said, motioning with her hands to show that she was at a loss for words.

Lila leaned backwards, mouthing her response to Helga, literally, behind Leslie's back. 'Here it comes…' she mouthed.

"To be perfectly honest, you're all sickeningly overweight." she said, brazenly. Helga had no doubts that Leslie's comment would be concerning the 'size' of the dance company, but even she did not anticipate the harshness that Leslie used when speaking about them. Lila stood on the other side of the brunette, her jaw completely slack and her eyes shocked. Both Helga and Lila turned to Leslie, praying for some kind of recant, but knowing that none would come.

"I say this because I care about this company. So, if you're wondering why everyone's costumes are a tad bit snug…this is why. In your bags you should have found a plain marbled notebook where you are each to record your food intake everyday. In short, your captains are hereby instituting a mandatory diet for all of you. This will be enforced until you're all able to wear these costumes without splitting the seams." she said, crossing her arms across her barely covered chest.

"What?!" Helga and Lila exclaimed. Neither of them approved any mandatory diet or drastic change in costume and were shocked to hear it come from Leslies as some kind of joint decision.

"You heard me. And that goes for the two of you as well." she said, arrogantly. "Lila, your thighs are getting huge, and Helga…it's called a _mirror_."

Though much shorter than Leslie, Lila stepped between she and Helga, fists tightened by her side. "First of all, I'll have you know that I look _awesome_. End of story. And second, _nobody _can look good in this get-up! This skirt is so short, you can see what I had for lunch!" Lila allowed herself to be moved back by Helga, lest she reach up and attempt to pull the taller girl's long, brown hair.

Leslie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Maybe you shouldn't _have _lunch anymore…" but Lila was too upset to listen. "And what's your excuse, Pataki? One too many Snickers bars, crying over your boyfriend?" Leslie asked, feigning concern.

Helga rolled her eyes at the lame attempt at an insult. "Say what you want, Leslie, no one in this company is going for your stupid diet or these ludicrous outfits. Do you know what kind of example we'd be setting if anyone saw us in public wearing these? You're completely objectifying us and making this company look like nothing but a chauvinist tool for attracting womanizers.""

"Are you inciting a mutiny against me, Helga?" Leslie asked, not really caring. She imagined herself to have more power than she really did, and basked in it.

"Mutinies are incited against leaders, and you're definitely not. Right, Lila?" Helga asked, calling behind her, but keeping her angered gaze locked on Leslie. "Right, Lila…?" she asked again, awaiting a response. Turning around, Helga found Lila bobbing her head left to right, eyes cast upwards, softly singing to herself.

"_Womanizer, woman-womanizer,_

_You're a womanizer,_

_Oh, womanizer, oh, _

_You're a womanizer, baby."_

"Lila…" Helga said again, her patience growing thin.

_You, you, you, are…_

_You, you, you, are…._

_Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer, womanizer…_

"Lila…" Helga said, moving toward her, as her tone grew sharper.

"_Boy don't try to front, _

_I-I know just-just what you are-are-are_

_Boy don't try and front_

_I-I know just-just what you are-are-are_

_You…"_

"Lila!" Helga shouted, finally causing the her to jump in surprise and stop singing.

"Why are you yelling?" she asked, confusion painted on her face.

"Why are you singing?" Helga yelled back.

"Well, you called Leslie a womanizer, it reminded me that I need to download that song, and then I started thinking about the music video, and that part where she's wearing those really cute pumps…you know, the part in the limo. and-"

"Lila…the costumes?" Helga asked, motioning to the group of girls next to them, hoping to redirect her back to the situation at present.

"Oh right. The costumes. Yeah, they're totally sexist, and I refuse to wear it. Although, I am going to keep the tubes socks, because they're cool. I used to have some just like these, only they had this adorable pink stripe along the top…"

"Thank you, Lila." Helga said, cutting her off, even though she continued speaking anyway.

"…and then, last year, I put them in the laundry, and only one of them came out. Isn't that weird, how that always happens? Only one sock gets lost, and the other sock is all alone…

"That's enough, Lila…"

"…and when you go back to the store where you bought it, they're all sold out, and you can't even purchase a new pair! I think it's a conspiracy. Maybe there's an evil sock creature that lives in your washing machine, and he steals one of your socks, just to-"

"Lila!" Helga shouted again.

"What? I wasn't singing this time!" she said.

Helga took a deep breath, on the verge of killing both of her co-captains with her bare hands. "Just…be quiet for a little while, okay?"

Lila looked confused for a minute, and then shrugged. "Okay." she resumed bobbing her head and singing to herself. _'Daddy-o, you've got the swagger of a champion…"_

"Regardless of my less than inclined fellow captain, you have to understand how this makes us look. I don't think anyone here wants to look like a cheap Pussycat Dolls reject. And as for insulting everyone's weight, I could go on a tangent about how everyone is different, but it'd be wasted on you."

Leslie rolled her eyes, and looked bored. "Step down from your soapbox, Pataki. I'm the _head _captain, and what I says, goes. End of story." she stated simply.

"Objection!" Helga shouted, the shock from Leslie's announcement still on her face, now mingled with anger and vexation.

"This isn't a _courthouse_, Helga…" Leslie replied, smugly.

"You can not enforce a mandatory diet, Leslie! And this definitely didn't get approval from your _fellow _captains, thus making your diet, these costumes, and whatever twisted number you've got choreographed for us null and void. Overruled, Robbins." Helga replied, crossing her arms in a similar manner.

"I'm the only _real _captain on this team. The two of you don't do half of the work I do for this team, and if not for me, we'd be practicing in mall parking lots and dancing along the interstate in one of your ridiculous aunt's secondhand catastrophes." Leslie retorted, raising her voice. Some of the girls gasped at Leslie's remark regarding Helga's aunt, who donated costumes and funding to the school on a regular basis.

Helga stepped closer to Leslie, not allowing the scant difference in their height to intimidate her. She smiled, letting Leslie think that a low blow against her family was enough to silence her. "You make a good point, Les. My aunt does make use of donated costumes." she said, nodding, knowing all the while that the company was hanging in suspense. Fingering the short hem of Leslie's skirt, Helga gave her a once over, and smirked. "Unlike you, however, her costumes don't make the wearer look like a complete _slut_." she said, stepping back and taking in the shock on Leslie's face.

Turning her back on the girls, Helga began walking toward the girl's locker room , with every intention of changing out of the ridiculous getup and possibly skipping the class altogether. Turning her head to the side momentarily she commented, "This weekend, Viola Cooke did say something about making use of her leftovers. I had no idea she meant that you'd be sifting through her closet."

If there was a gasp when Leslie talked about Helga's aunt, a pin drop in Baghdakistan could be heard over the silence in the gymnasium. Somehow, their argument made it's way across the large room, and nearly everyone was watching with anticipation, listening carefully and awaiting the inevitable.

When it actually happened, however very few, if any could say they were truly prepared.

* * *

"Best 3 out of 5?"

The taller boy smiled and shook his head. "Just give up, man. I won." he said, catching the faded, orange basketball that the redheaded kid tossed him. The two were burning time until their Physical Education class came to an end, but after the first win, the taller of the two was growing bored, and actually considered losing a game on purpose, just because.

"What's going on over there?" the redheaded boy, Benny, asked.

Gerald turned to the other side of the gym, where a group of girls stood, nearly naked. They were crowded in a semi-circle around two other girls, obvious arguing. He heard shouting a few times, but it didn't sound half as menacing as the sharp, hushed voices that the group of girls were blocking from him. A split second from growing bored and looking away, he heard a high pitched scream, and a name that piqued his attention.

Dropping the ball and running over, Gerald could only think one thing: "_What have you gotten yourself into now, Helga_?"

* * *

"Helga, watch-" was all that Lila could make out before Leslie pounced. She ran toward Helga with no signs of stopping, and tackled her to the ground. Anticipating the blow, though not with so much force, Helga turned half way, so that Leslie collided with her shoulder and she met the ground with an impact that was far less severe than if she was tackled from behind.

Once on the ground, Helga attempted to push Leslie, off, but was momentarily distracted when Leslie's hand came flying out of nowhere and struck her across the face. She felt a draft on her lower lip, and was sure that it was split. The realization urged her to grasp Leslie's shoulder's and push against her so that she was soon sitting on her legs, and their roles were reversed. Leslie pawed at the air with her eyes closed, landing a few weak blows to Helga's arms and latching on to a stray lock of her hair, and when she finally let go, Leslie fell to the ground with a hard thump.

Just as Helga reared back (she herself wasn't sure what she was going to do next, but she was satisfied with letting her fist do as it pleased), a strong force grabbed her around her midsection and pulled her off of Leslie's long legs. Helga watched as Leslie quickly stood up, taking advantage of the reprieve and lunged again at Helga. Happy to find that her arms and legs were not restricted, Helga's fists shot forward, and instinctively, her eyes shut and she swung at the girl charging for her. Behind her eyelids, she saw nothing, but felt her right fist connect with something soft, and immediately heard a shrill cry envelop the room. The once muted cries and jeers of their peers, were now completely silent, aside from a few gasps at what recently happened.

Helga opened her eyes at the silence and found most of their classmates standing farther back than before, except for Lila, who looked both scared and ready to step in herself, a redheaded boy, struggling to hold back a hysterical Leslie. Taking a closer look at Leslie, Helga's eyes widened at the sight of her, holding her eyes and crying.

'Bye bye Dance Company…' she said to herself, slumping against the person holding her. Looking back, Helga almost laughed to find Gerald holding her back, as if she were ready to strike again.

"Calm down, Hair-Boy. I'm not gonna bite her." she said, breathing heavily.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, laughing, but easing up on his grip.

Helga thought for a second. "Touche."

* * *

"I am extremely disappointed in the two of you…"

Rosso was pacing across the dance floor, Leslie and Helga seated before her looking shamed. Lila stood behind Mrs. Rosso's line of fire, and nodded in agreement with the teacher. Her presence held no true purpose, but she hated being left out of the loop, and followed the girls back to the dance studio, partially to make sure that they didn't kill one another in the stairwell, but also to listen in on what Rosso had to say.

"I had to cut my meeting short, because the two of your couldn't at least pretend to be civil for ten minutes." she said, angrily.

"But, Rosso, she-" Leslie began, only for the teacher to cut her off, abruptly.

"I don't care! I don't care what she did! Or what anyone did! I assigned the three of you as captains because you all exhibited remarkable talent and admirable qualities. Where are they now?" she asked herself. "What on earth were you girls thinking?"

"Yeah, what were you thinking?" Lila asked, from behind, earning her a stiff look from Rosso.

Leslie shifted the ice pack over her left eye, but remained silent. Helga rolled her eyes, not wanting to make light of the question, but Rosso looked like she wanted an answer, and she could only think of one.

"You know that song by Michael Jackson? 'Beat It'?" she asked. "I heard that in my head the entire time." she finished, fighting the smile that threatened to erupt on her face. Lila, however, didn't fight it and allowed a giggle to escape into her hand.

Rosso, on the other hand, didn't look quite as pleased. She continued pacing massaged her temples. "I'm very aware that you girls don't get along. I'm not blind. But, trust me when I say that there are far bigger obstacles threatening this Company, than you two fighting in the gymnasium."

Helga and Leslie exchanged looks, and Lila came to sit in front of Rosso, who sank into a nearby chair, looking obviously distressed. With their eyes, they each beckoned for her to continue.

"The meeting that I had was with the principal and assistant principal. This schools arts programs are…in jeopardy."

"What do you mean?" Lila asked.

"I mean that, the school, accepts two types of donations: Specific and General. A Specific donation comes from a sponsor, and can only be used by the organization for which to donor designates it. A general contribution to the school can be used for anything; wherever the school chooses to use it.

"For a long time, the Dance program could live off of it's few Specific donations, and whatever the school gave us as a portion of the general donation. But, because the Dance Program doesn't make as much as, say…the football team, the money isn't divided as evenly. We get about as much money as we need, and not much more."

Leslie, witht eh ice pack still pressed against her face, sat up and spoke. "What are you saying, Rosso? Are we low on funds? Because, I do the books and-"

"What the school is telling me, is that our program has grown _too _much. Most of the arts programs have, actually. More students are signing up for arts classes, which means they have to dish out more money to fund us, which means less money goes to places like the sports teams. They're cutting back portions of the Arts Program's general funding."

"They can't do that! We're just as important as the football team!" Lila said, angrily. "How much are they going to give us _now_? It doesn't sound like we were getting that much to begin with."

Rosso looked down at her lap for a few moments. "Girls, they're dismantling the Dance Program altogether."

Helga felt like a wrecking ball hit her in her chest. The air left her lungs momentarily, and all she could feel was pure shock. She couldn't look at Leslie or Lila, just at Rosso's pain-stricken face. For the first time, she noticed the blush on her teacher's face, her puffy and reddened eyes, the way she was steadily wringing her hands in her lap.

Their Dance Program -the Company, the classes, everything- was being abolished.

When she did finally tear her eyes away from her teacher, she found Lila, still looking shocked, but with her bottom lip and chin trembling violently. Leslie looked angry and shocked, but also on the verge of tears.

"I know what you're all thinking, because I thought it too. But there's nothing we can do. All they need is the approval of the Board, and it's final." she said, sniffing, not wanting to cry in front of her students. "I wanted to tell you first, before I announce it to the other members. I trust that you'll keep what I've said in this room." she finished, looking like the same, stern Rosso that the three had always known.

Each girl nodded, and watched Rosso stand, visibly shaking the hurt from her and meeting each of them in a sharp gaze. "Now," she began, her voice gaining strength again. "I believe that we should focus on the here and now. And, at present, I have three captains of my Dance Company who cannot seem to get along to save their lives."

Each girl suddenly felt fear encompass their previous despair and sat up straight, expecting the worst.

"I have an idea…"

* * *

"This is the most humiliating thing I've ever done in my life." Leslie said, placing her hands on her hips, looking around the empty courtyard and allowing her lip to curl in disdain. She tried to furrow her brow to further show her anger, but the purple and blue eye that she received from Helga, caused her to wince whenever she so much as smiled. This alone did not keep Helga from smiling, however.

"Really, I would have thought that it was more embarrassing for you to dig in the clearance bin at The Children's Place to buy those stupid outfits." Helga said, taking her place next to Leslie. The three girls stood, wearing their Dance Company T-shirts. Rosso agreed not to go to the principal in regards to the fight, but wanted her girls to get the opportunity to "bond", with a special treat. Although, Helga was happy to go home that day without a suspension, she too had to admit, that the task was embarrassing.

"Maybe if you weren't such a complete _whale_, I wouldn't-"

"_Whale_? Maybe if you weren't such a complete _bit_-"

"You _guys_!" Lila said, stepping in between them, and pushing them backwards. "Rosso's making us do this because we can't get along. Let's just get it over with, okay? For Rosso?" she said. She was relieved when they backed down. "Besides, it's not like anyone's going to be out here. It's the middle of the school day…"

A loud crackling erupted over their heads, and each girl turned toward the nearest loudspeaker.

"Excuse me, this is Mrs. Rosso, from the Dance Department. Apologies for the midday interruption, but with permission from Principal Mason, I have an announcement for our student body."

"Oh no…" Lila whispered.

"As we all know, it's often difficult to get along with our peers and contemporaries, but I firmly believe that any such obstacles can be overcome if those involved have the right attitude."

"No…" Leslie gasped, watching as the halls of the buildings near them began to buzz with life and movement.

"And sometimes, it just takes certain measures for these hurdles to be surmounted. In this case, _extreme _measures."

"No way…" Helga said, aware of the doors of the school buildings slowly opening.

"In the spirit of togetherness and cooperation, the three senior captains of our Dance Company have arranged a little show for you today, in the central courtyard. Enjoy."

"This can't be good." Leslie, Lila and Helga said in unison, as their classmates filed into the courtyard, and slowly descended upon them. The music that then crackled over the intercom was not welcome for any of them.

* * *

I wrote this in a relatively short amount of time. These next few chapters are going to be a lot of fun. Not much focus on Helga/Derek or Helga/Arnold or Arnold/Derek in this one. That'll come later. By the way, thanks to everyone whos voted in my poll. It was just for fun, really, but I like hearing where you guys stand. So far, everyone is either for Team Arnold or torn. I understand, I just think it's funny that no one's siding with Derek…yet.

I really enjoyed writing that fight scene. I know it wasn't very actiony, or cool, but I was in high school once upon a time, many, many years ago (2006). And, I saw (and participated in) a few fights in my day. They're nothing like in the movies. If it's two guys, it's just a lot of rolling around and swearing. And if it's girls (such as above)… it's a lot of rolling around and swearing. With the occasional tug of hair and pinching. So, as much as I wanted for Helga to land a kick in the center of Leslie's chest, it just wasn't a reality. Maybe next time, kiddies.

AIL (Art Imitates Life):

-My friend choreographed a number in my senior year, and the costumes were ridiculously short and sparkly. She was really short, so it was fine on her, but it was pretty indecent on my end. Most of the class convinced her to add leggings to the costume, which we did. I still think they were too short…

-If anyone can tell me where "Baghdakistan" came from, you get a free cheesecake and a coupon for a backrub from that shady-looking guy at the mall by my house.

-My elementary school teacher was Mrs. Mason, and she was awesome. Her favorite movie was Pinocchio and her office was filled with marionettes, and dolls and books from the movie. In the first grade, as a surprise for her, our first grade class put on a play of Pinocchio, and all the first graders got to be in it. I wanted to be the Blue Fairy, but some girl named Brittany got it. I did get to be the "Great Tuna" in the fourth act, who saved Pinocchio and his father from the whale (It was the story version, not the Disney version). Both of our costumes were blue, but mine was blue _and _covered in glitter. Take that Brittany from the first grade who got to be the Blue Fairy. Or whatever her last name was. She was nice, so I can't be too mad.

-Have you guys ever binged on a song? Like, there's just one song that you listen to for a whole month, and after that month, you kind of hate it? Yeah, mine used to be "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis, but now it's "Womanizer" by Britney Spears. And "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. And "Allow Me to Introduce myself…Mr. Right?" by The White Tie Affair. That last one is inspiration for my newest story. It'll be up after the _Back Home _Sequel is up. Which will be up after _Roses are Red _is done. Which will be complete sooner than you want it to.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

-PointyObjects


	18. Throw Your Partner Behind a Desk

_**The Compromise:**_

_**Chapter 17: Throw Your Partner Behind a Desk**_

_**Disclaime (Because I NEVER write one): I don't own any of this. Except Derek. Back off...he's mine.**_

* * *

_"Swing, swing, swing from the tangles of  
My heart is crushed by a former love...  
Can you help me find a way to carry on again?" _

_"Swing, Swing"_

_-The All American Rejects_

"_We can __not _go through with this." Leslie said, huddling up next to Lila and Helga. Her voice was low and firm.

"What are you talking about?" Lila asked.

"I'm talking about the fact that I'm _not _doing this. It's embarrassing."

"So were our costumes fifteen minutes ago…look, we have to do this. Mason already hates my guts, and if we screw this up for Rosso, she'll definitely kill us." Helga added.

"And if you get suspended, I doubt that'll look good on your permanent record." Lila teased, looking at Leslie.

After a few moments of thought, she rolled her eyes and complied. "Fine. But we do the stupid number, and that's it, got it?"

"Duh." Helga replied, as the three split up and too their places, facing away from the ever growing audience. "I don't get what the big deal is, anyway…" she commented from one side

"I just don't understand why we have to do _this _number. It's so old." Leslie grimaced from the center. None of the girls turned to look at each other, but could tell each other's expressions just from their speech.

"Maybe Rosso's doing it because it was our first number altogether. Now be quiet, our cues are coming up." Lila whispered. None of the three could help but roll their eyes as the music began, light and airy, and completely daunting.

Lila moved forward, with the grace and style that she was known for, spreading her arms and turning several times, coming to a stop in a kneeling position on the black asphalt.

_When the goin starts to get rough,  
And you feel like you've had enough,  
Let the music....take control of your soul..."_

Helga stepped out in like fashion, repeating the arabesque that her mother showed her in the morning paper. Bringing herself down to kneel next to Lila, the two took on serene gestures, waiting for Leslie, the tallest of the three to move.

_"Take a chance and do what you feel,  
Your voice, they cannot live without it,  
You've gotta break the chain..."_

The murmurs in the crowd grew as Leslie turned gracefully into a pirouette; the precision in her long legs remarkable. Stepping "center stage", she knelt above Helga and Lila, each girl hovered at different heights. They sat motionless for a few moments, slight awkwardness gracing each of their faces, from having to dance upon the jagged blacktop as opposed to their smooth dance flooring.

_"There's a passion inside,  
Inner strength that drives.  
Can't nobody take that away from you.  
It's the greatest high,  
Set the floor on fire,  
When you come alive..."_

In an instant, the girls' movements were rapid, and they found themselves falling into step with one another, almost seamlessly. The first time they learned the dance, classically trained Leslie and Lila had to edit their quick turns for Helga, who, despite picking up the routine quickly, was not as traditionally taught as they were. The three executed their rotations in sync, and finding themselves smiling after the long string of fouettés.

_And we're dancing,  
And it feels alright,  
I can't control my desire  
And we're dancing,  
And it feels alright  
Yeah  
And we're dancin,  
And it feels alright  
Cant hold me down  
Gotta reach for the sky  
And we're dancin,  
And it feels alright  
Yeah_

Some people dont know the love you posess,  
They pretend-"

Suddenly the music was cut off, replaced by the same crackling and feedback that the loudspeaker usually admitted. While the crowd began applauding the impromptu performance, Leslie, Lila and Helga looked around awkwardly, unsure if the abrupt ending to their number was a blessing or a curse. Rosso could have either cut them a break, or she could have something worse in store for them.

"Alright, that's enough." Rosso said, over the amplifier, drawing the attention of the student body in the courtyard. "I hope this will teach you three a little lesson in cooperation. Thank you for your attention."

Leslie moved out of her plie and took on her usual stance, hand on hip and lip curled, eyeing the crowd and her fellow dancers with disdain. "Ugh, remind me to never do that, again."

"It wasn't so bad. Very nostalgic." Helga commented, stretching her arms over her head.

"Spare me. This is nothing short of public humiliation." Leslie scoffed.

"She has a point Helga." Lila said, joining I her in loosening her muscles. "_Everyone _came out here. Rosso sure has a way of getting people's attention…"

Helga nodded, in agreement but stood motionless when she thought about Lila's words. "Getting people's attention…" she said to herself, her mind whirling. A large grin erupted on her face, before she turned to Lila and Leslie, looking positively ecstatic.

"That's it! That's what we have to do!" Helga said, attracting the attention of a few of her schoolmates, who were hesitant to return to class.

"What?" Lila and Leslie asked in unison.

"Get their attention! That's what we have to do; we have to _get their attention_!" Helga said, gesturing to make her two fellow captains understand. Something about eh look of fear and bewilderment on their faces, told her that her point wasn't getting across.

"What are you talking about, Pataki? Get whose attention?" Leslie asked.

"I can't explain it right now. I have to go find Arnold." Helga said. She had only seen her friend in passing for the entirety of the day, but hoped that he was hanging around the darkroom or something. If the plan that recently hatched in her head was going to come through, she most certainly couldn't do it on her own. Before Helga made it a few steps, she turned back, eyeing Leslie curiously.

"What are you looking at?" Leslie asked, expecting Helga to retort with something about her black eye and "admiring her work".

"Can I just ask…why'd you do it?"

"What are you talking about?" Leslie asked.

Helga walked up to Leslie, the same look still painted on her face. "The costumes, the diet…Les, despite how much you get on my nerves, I have to admit that you're still a really good dancer." Helga said, honestly. "I just don't get why you'd stoop to the same tricks that girls like Viola Cooke play."

Leslie crossed her arms, turning away from Helga slightly. For a moment, Helga didn't think that she was going to get an answer at all, until Leslie spoke.

"I saw your picture in the newspaper this morning. All those acts, and you still dominated 80 percent of the article." she said, looking at Helga in a scrutinizing manner. "Do you know who dominated the other 20 percent of that article?" When Helga gave no reply, Leslie uncrossed her arms, and placed them at her sides. "Viola Cooke."

Helga was a little shocked by this bit of news. She could admit, that Viola was a decent performer, if one didn't mind getting bombarded with flashing lights and copious amounts of glitter during a show, but she didn't do anything extraordinary on Saturday. She didn't even finish her routine.

"And I thought, 'Here's this…this, repulsive girl, who can't even finish her performance, and they still write two glowing paragraphs about her." Leslie said, looking angry, and for once, not at Helga. "I don't know; maybe I saw this coming. You know, the whole thing with the dance company?" she asked, finally looking at Helga.

Remembering the conversation that Rosso had with the three girls still made Helga's chest hurt, but she just nodded.

"Maybe I knew it was coming, and this was just a last ditch effort to keep us on top. Guess it didn't really work, huh?" she asked, smiling.

Helga smiled in response, inwardly wondering how she happened to fall into a civil conversation with Leslie Robbins, of all people. She looked up again, when Leslie continued speaking.

"I wasn't there, but I heard you did a pretty well, given all the stuff that happened with your partner, and everything." Leslie remarked.

"Thanks." Helga replied, before her brain could convince her to say something mean.

"Don't think this changes things. You may have won four plaques, but I guarantee, that if it were me, I'd have won at least six." Leslie said, standing up straight and resuming her usual "pose", which consisted of looking upright and stiff, and flicking her hair every so often.

"Whatever you say, Leslie." Helga replied, mockingly rolling her eyes and turning away from the two girls. Her thoughts soon centered on the problem at hand. She had a company to save, and the only person that could help was Arnold.

* * *

Arnold stood alone in the darkroom, his eyes long adjusted to the lack of light, and silently enjoyed the silence of the empty room. The intercom long since stopped crackling, but none of his classmates returned to the darkroom to resume working. Once Arnold heard Mrs. Rosso over the PA system, he had an idea of what was going on, and didn't follow the rest of his classmates outside. He told himself it was because he still had work to do, but was well aware that his anger at Helga was a driving motivation in his reason for staying.

Admittedly, Arnold was sure that Helga's intent wasn't to upset him. She had no reason, in his mind, to do so. But for some reason, watching her drive away with Derek, after her plans with him were cancelled, angered him greatly. He wasn't sure what he expected her to do; possibly push harder for the two of them to spend time together. Regardless, the last thing he thought she'd do was call Derek. It wasn't until Arnold arrived back home, that it struck him. How could Helga have called Derek, arranged a date and gotten ready, so soon after speaking with him? Arnold surmised that instead of calling Derek directly after cancelling with him, she merely overbooked her evening and was looking for a way out of spending it with him, in favor of doing so with Derek.

Arnold told himself that he would have favored Helga admitting to making plans with Derek and needing to cancel, than trying to find a way out of it. He wasn't sure that he believed it himself.

The footsteps in the properly lit portion of the classroom were definitely not welcome. Not only was Arnold using the silence as opportunity to think, but he was certain that it was Derek returning from the courtyard. Arnold rolled his eyes at the eagerness with which Derek left the classroom, all too excited to see Helga.

"Arnold?"

Knowing that she couldn't see him, Arnold still managed to keep his head from snapping toward the doorway of the darkened hallway, where the light from the classroom disappeared and a dull, amber glow enveloped the room. His own eyes adjusted to the light a long time ago, and as a result, he could see Helga far better than she could see him.

"Arnold, are you in here? I can't see anything." Helga said, stretching her hands out in front of her. She accompanied Arnold to the darkroom more times than either of them could count, but over the summer, the advisors decided to move around a few machines and tables, making the room suddenly foreign to her. She inhaled sharply as her leg hit the photo dryer, and she immediately stopped where she was, and awaited a response.

"I'm over here." Arnold said, revealing his position, but making little effort to escort her to where he was working.

"When did you guys remodel?" she joked, running her fingers over the photo dryer. She began moving toward his voice, at a slower pace.

"Over the summer." he responded, pretending to focus on his work, when it was really done. He didn't have any reason to continue hanging around the darkroom, but he found it consoling, for some reason. Arnold had a feeling that it wouldn't be that way for too long.

"Are you alright?" Helga asked, when she was a few feet away from him. She noticed his silence, but couldn't discern a reason as to why.

"Yeah, I'm just finishing up." he responded. "Did you need something?"

Helga didn't miss the edge in his voice, but continued on. "Kind of. Are you busy right now?" she asked, leaning on the metal sink next to her, though Arnold was sure that she was still mostly blind in the room.

"Not really. I'll be done in a few minutes."

"I'll wait outside." Helga said, moving toward the doorway again. She resumed holding her arms out to keep her from running into anything, and Arnold watched her leave the room. Taking a deep breath, and cleaning up his work station, Arnold found himself confounded as to what he would say to Helga. He was still upset, but wasn't half as talented as she was in expressing himself. If anything, he surmised that he would say something stupid, and their friendship, which was still on unsteady ground, would collapse altogether.

Arnold walked into the lit portion of the classroom, to find Helga staring intently at a few photos that Mr. Z decided to hang up, just a few days prior. Only one of them belonged to him, but she wasn't looking at it. She stared silently, and the tower of an old community church, against a pristine blue sky. Arnold was aware that it was a great photo, but the fact that his own photograph was right next to it, upset him. It was way too close to home.

"What happened to your lip?" Arnold asked, momentarily forgetting his earlier will of staying aloof to Helga. The long, vertical, red line that extended down her lip, however eradicated that promise in no time.

"I got in a fight." Helga answered simply, sounding almost proud of herself.

"With whom?"

"Leslie. Trust me, she looks _way _worse." Helga said, smiling.

"So, what's going on?" Arnold said, watching Helga turn her gaze away from the pictures., and turn toward him, smiling. He may have been upset with her, but she did seek him out to talk about something.

"I…kind of need your help." she replied, looking bashful, and wringing her hands.

"With…"

"With…okay, here's the deal." she began, taking a seat at one of the elevated, black tables in the classroom. Arnold followed in suit, sensing her urgency. "The dance company…it's about to be, dismantled, for lack of a better word."

"Dismantled?" Arnold asked. Part of him was truly confused regarding the revelation, and the other part of him inwardly wished that it had something-anything-to do with the predicament that he found himself in regarding Helga. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the principal is saying that the school can't afford us, and general donations, and then Rosso just said it." she explained.

"So…there's not going to be a Dance Company?"

Helga sighed. "There's not going to be a Dance _anything_, if Mr. Mason has his way."

"Can they do that?" Arnold asked, sitting up straight.

"Apparently." Helga replied, looking momentarily hopeless.

"Well, I'm not sure how I can help. You know I can't dance, right?" Arnold joked, lightening the mood a little.

"Unfortunately, I'm very aware of that. No, I need your help in a completely different capacity. I have an idea, to get the school and the administration's attention, but, I'm not good at helping people. You, however, are amazing at helping people. So, I thought that I'd come to you to see what to do." she admitted nervously.

Arnold's dejected face obviously wasn't manifesting itself to Helga enough for her to notice, as she only continued biting her lip and staring at him. If she came to him with anything else, he'd have been slightly less upset. But, it seemed, she was blind to his plight. She came to him with a legitimate problem, but ignored his own dilemma in the process.

"So, that's why you came here? To ask me to help you save your company?" he asked, looking to the opposite side of the room from her.

"Yeah…I mean, you're the first person I thought of when I got this idea and…if you're too busy to help out, that's fine, I kind of just need some one to bounce ideas off of." she said, watching him intently.

Arnold breathed out a small chuckle and shook his head disappointingly. Muttering something under his breath, he stood, walking away from where Helga sat.

"Maybe you could bounce your ideas off of _Derek_…" Arnold said quietly.

Helga blinked, not understanding momentarily. "I'm sorry…?" she asked, willing him to repeat himself.

"No you're not."

"Okay, what are we talking about now?" Helga asked, raising herself from her own chair and walking over to Arnold, who stood in front of a long counter, with his back to her.

"I was just thinking, what do you need _me _for, anyway? Why not just go to Derek with all of your ideas? Speaking of which, how _was _your evening, Helga?" he asked, insolently. He turned then, leaning against the counter and stared her down.

Helga looked at Arnold, slightly shocked and hurt. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing, I suppose. I just find it ironic that you broke plans with me last night, to spend the evening with Derek, and yet, you're still coming to _me_ for help." he said, crossing his arms.

"I didn't break plans with you yesterday! _You_ broke plans with _me_!" Helga shouted.

"And you jumped on the opportunity to be free of your obligation to me, and used it to go on your date with Derek. Tell the truth, Helga; you 'overbooked', didn't you? Planned two dates for one night?"

Her mouth slightly ajar, Helga broke her heated gaze from Arnold and hung her head. Looking back at him, she attempted to defend herself. "I did, but-"

"Why am I not surprised?" Arnold quipped, cutting her off abruptly.

"Fine! I admit it! I did make plans with you _and_ Derek!" she shouted, ignoring Arnold's sarcastic look of shock that came with the comment. "But I was going to call him and cancel when I realized what I did. And either way, if you called me and asked to still hang out, I would have. You know me better than that, Arnold." she finished sincerely.

"Do I?" Arnold asked.

Helga shook her head, and threw he hands up in surrender. "You know what? Forget about it. Forget that I asked for your help anyway." she said, moving around Arnold and toward the door. "I can't talk to you when you're like this…"

"Like what?" Arnold asked, pushing himself off of the counter, challenging her.

"Like…never mind." she said, reaching for the door.

Arnold stood back, shaking his head. "Once again, Helga can't seem to say what she needs to. You apparently didn't get the chance to cancel with Derek, and I practically had to _pry _the truth out of you just now. Nice to see that Derek has such…amazing taste in his women."

Helga paused in her escape, her hand still on the doorknob, and turned her head to stare at Arnold. The shock that she felt hardly registered on her face.

"I mean, first, he's with…what's her name? Viola? And, frankly, she seems about as shallow as a puddle. And then there's you…" Arnold said, not noticing the sudden drop of Helga's shoulders at his words. "You chase after him for…equally shallow reasons, it seems. I mean, your parents are always busy, and even when they're not, their attention is always elsewhere. Phoebe's your best friend, but she's got her own life to worry about. And when I don't show you enough attention for too long, you don't hesitate to find someone who will. Bravo, Helga."

The two stared at each other quietly, Arnold wearing a smirk that oozed of confidence, although he knew inside that he would come to regret his words. He meant none of them, but he was angry and bitter, and allowed it to reign free over his thoughts. Helga lifted her head slightly, and slightly bit her bottom lip, looking around the empty room. She looked lost for a moment, as if seeing the room for the first time. When she could bear to look at Arnold, she did so fleetingly, so quickly that he almost missed it. Her hand found the doorknob again, her motions similar to that of a recent amputee using their prosthetic limb for the first time: cautious and frightened. Turning the knob, she exhaled, pressing her eyes closed and pulling the door toward her.

Before she disappeared behind the heavy wooden door, Arnold saw something from a nearby window reflect off a distinct, jagged line on her face. She didn't slam the door behind her, but the soft click of the latch was loud enough to bring his conscience back into play.

Arnold had successfully ruined any chances of being anything to Helga. Friend or more, despite what he wanted, he sealed his fate.

* * *

"Why does she need forty copies of this book? She's only got twenty-three students in the entire class..." the young man said to himself, half-heartedly arraigning books on the plain grey cart behind him. As much as he loved reading, and books, something about hauling forty large textbooks made him hate the printed word, even if only for the single class period. Standing up, he crossed the teacher's name off of his list, and looked for the next set of books that he had to deliver.

Rounding the corner of the library shelving, Derek almost missed the figure slumped on the plain, brown chair. The person didn't stir when he came closer, and he stood, trying to decide whether or not to rouse the person. Most people were considerably cranky when awakened, and he wasn't prepared to face the wrath of a complete stranger. The person wore a hooded jacket and drew their knees up to their chest, turned sideways in the chair, obviously asleep.

Prepared to leave them as they were, Derek caught sight of the familiar grey sweatshirt, and attempted to read the name and numbers on the back. Recognizing them as his own, he found himself, first of all, confused. How could someone get a hold of his own sweatshirt? He himself hadn't worn it since that day he met Helga and loaned it to her in the rain.

Daring to speak, Derek stepped forward. "Helga?" he asked, tentatively.

At the sound of his voice, her head shot up, her blonde hair spilling out of the sides of the hood. Her arms were folded under her head, gripping her knees. Looking disoriented, Helga ran her hands over her face and head, sweeping the hood from her face, and looking to Derek.

"Hi." she said, tiredly.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked, almost laughing. He was worried when he rushed out to the courtyard earlier in the day and couldn't find her amongst the crowd, and here she was. Asleep in the library.

"Um…" Helga began, running a hand through her hair again, and looking around. "You know how I am with books…" she remarked, attempting to smile. It revealed itself weakly, wavering as she attempted to hold it, until it, and her head dropped until her eyes were out of sight. "I was doing some research, and I guess I just….dozed off." she said, quietly.

Before her head fell, Derek noticed that something was off about Helga. Her shoulders stayed slumped the entire time she spoke, her cheeks were red, and the area around her eyes was both red, and bottled with the scant black makeup that she wore. She sniffled after each sentence, and her eyes wouldn't stay on his for too long.

Kneeling next to her chair, Derek fell into her eyesight, and spoke earnestly. "What's wrong, Helga. You can tell me."

Sniffling, Helga attempted to answer, despite the tiny pricks of tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. "It's nothing…I was just reading up on Groucho Marx. And, he was…you know, so funny and everything. But when he died, no one really cared, because it was three days after Elvis died…" she said, her voice growing quieter and quieter as she spoke. Squeezing her eyes shut in a final, and vain attempt to keep her tears at bay. She began berating herself in her mind, when her body finally succumbed, her back and shoulders quaking as she cried.

Derek looked surprised for a moment. In their initial meeting, Helga came off as utterly impenetrable and self-assured. But there she was, looking scared and crying alone in the back of the library. Reaching for her, he held her close to him, and allowed her to cry, for reasons that were a mystery to him. Into his chest, she spoke incoherently, though he could make out a single statement, that she repeated, over and over.

"_How could he say that_…" she asked herself.

He figured that it was much bigger than Groucho Marx.

"So, there's nothing you can do? They're just going to get rid of the dance program for good?" Derek asked, escorting Helga out of the library and into the cloudy courtyard.

"Pretty much." Helga answered, leaning against Derek. "Even if there was some way to fix this, it'd take too long to plan and everything. I'm just upset, that's all. I'm fine now." Helga said, sighing. She tried not to think of Arnold, or his help, or his hurtful words, but her mind kept wandering back, repeating the words back to her.

_"Once again, Helga can't seem to say what she needs to…"_

_"You chase after him for…equally shallow reasons…"_

_"Bravo, Helga…"_

Shaking her head, Helga tried again to smile at Derek, finding it easier since her little breakdown.

"I just want to go home now. Binge on some ice cream and look for another elective." she joked.

"Hey, don't give up so soon." Derek said, as they walked to the student parking lot and Helga pointed out her car. "Things could turn around when you least expect it."

"Let's hope so." Helga said, pulling out her key, and inserting it into the keyhole to unlock it. Thorwing her few items into the front seat, she sat down in the driver's seat, and looked up at Derek. "Thanks. I feel a lot better now." she said.

"Really?" he asked, seeing through her façade immediately.

"No, but, I will be." she smiled.

Derek smiled with her, happy to be seeing glimpses of the old Helga, few and far between as they were. "Can I ask you something?" he said, quickly. Helga raised her eyebrows in response, and he continued. "When you were…crying, in there…you kept saying something. 'How could he say that?' or something. What'd you mean by that? Who said something?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh." Helga said, caught off guard by his attentiveness. "Apparently, Mr. Mason said some things about the Company, and…I just let them get to me. It's no big deal."

"_Nice to see that Derek has such…amazing taste in his women…"_

"_Your parents…their attention is always elsewhere…"_

"_Bravo, Helga…"_

Closing her eyes again, Helga looked at Derek, and was glad to see that he wore no suspicion on his face.

"I'll call you tomorrow." he said, leaning through the open door to plant a chaste kiss on Helga's lips. She smiled, and kissed him back, looking back up when he pulled away. "And don't get in anymore fights." he joked.

Waving him goodbye, Helga shut her door and started the car. Derek began walking back toward the school, to complete his final class of the day. Helga however felt the need to leave, and did so, driving erratically out of the parking lot.

* * *

_So there you have it, the big fight! I've been wanting to write that for a while now, it's sad that it took me 17 chapters to get it out. I hope it was good. I hope that it was at least readable. Yes, I know, Arnold was a huge meanie, right? It'll be fine, kiddies. Trust me._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	19. Where They'll Do

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 18: Where They'll Do**

_"And it doesn't seem fair,  
That your wicked words should work  
In holding me down.  
No, it doesn't seem right,  
To take information  
Given at close range,  
For the gag,  
And the bind,  
And the ammunition round..."_

_-Fiona Apple_

_"Not About Love"_

* * *

"_Alright, your turn."_

"_Alright." Helga said, dropping her fork atop her empty plate and lacing her fingers together. The two chose to make themselves comfortable in a tiny eatery known as "The Cheesecake Haven"; a shop that mastered any number of desserts, but made exceptional cheesecake. Though the company's name was "The Cheesecake Haven", most replaced the last word as "Heaven", after a few of the light bulbs that illuminated the sign went out. When the sign was replaced, the broken "a" in "Haven" was replaced with an "e"; a simple mistake made by the advertising company. Despite the misspelling on the sign, many still flocked there on a regular basis._

_Even Helga, who found such blunders grating, couldn't keep herself from "The Cheesecake Hevan", even if she tried. _

"_For my dance performance…the girls didn't choose that song." she said, not looking guilty, but owning up to her confession. _

_Derek looked confused for a moment, until the words sunk in. "You mean…then why…you chose that?" Helga replied with a shy smile and shrug. "The Little Mermaid? Really?"_

_Helga's jaw dropped, and she found herself eager to defend herself. "Hey! When you watch a movie everyday for the majority of your childhood, it leaves a soft spot in your heart. So, when the parents asked me to pick a theme, I thought about what I liked at age seven." she said, dragging her fork across the plate. "That…and Prince Eric was always my favorite." _

"_Prince Eric? You're joking, right?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. _

"_No. Of all the Disney Princes, he was definitely the one who got the job done, in the most efficient manner. And he was definitely the hottest."_

"_Helga, he married a sixteen year old mermaid. That doesn't seem like the action of a person who is mentally stable." Derek said, dryly, but smiling all the while. "And what do you mean 'he got the job done in the most efficient manner'? What job?"_

_This is the part Helga loved. She never considered herself picky, but Helga knew she had standards. And even if the guy she found herself falling for wasn't Arnold, she knew one thing: He had to be able to challenge her. Whether it be mentally, or on trivial matters, she was very well aware of what kept her interested in another person. _

_Smiling, she replied like a well rehearsed politician. "Think about it, Derek. Every Disney movie is essentially the same story over and over: Girl is perfect. Girl meets adversary. Adversary places girl in some crazy situation, that can only be remedied with a kiss from perfect male character. Perfect male character appears and overcomes aforementioned adversity. Perfect male character and perfect female character kiss. The end. Are we together so far?"_

_Derek smiled in reply, satisfied with her analysis. After mulling it over, and finding no flaws, he nodded, urging her to continue. _

"_In the case of Prince Eric, he's introduced to the audience before the adversity even is. And he's made into a truly three-dimensional character when he reveals that he too is searching for that special someone." Helga said, leaning on her elbows. "Regardless, he is, hands down, the hottest Disney prince ever imagined. End of story."_

_Derek looked at her skeptically, rearing back in his seat across from her. "Okay, I get the whole 'typical Disney plot blah, blah, blah…' but hottest Disney prince? I mean, first of all, he's animated, and secondly…he's animated! How can you like an animated character?!" he asked._

"_Hello?" Helga asked, as though stating the obvious. "Dark hair, light eyes, obvious appreciation for music. What more can you ask for?" she finished, before realizing what she said, and to whom she said it. Wrinkling her nose, she awaited the sarcasm and slight arrogance that she was almost sure was coming. _

"_Interesting." he said, simply. Moving his hand to the end of the table, closest to the wide, glass window, Derek gripped the shiny, metallic napkin dispenser, and bought it close his face. "Let's see…dark hair?" he asked, running his free hand through his dark locks. "Check. Light eyes?" he asked, pulling his bottom eye lid down comically. "Check. And let's see, I believe or first date was to an Open Mike Night. Looks like I'm three for three." he finished, looking satisfied with himself. _

_Helga retorted by tossing a crumpled napkin at him, which he caught. Turning to the window, in hopes of dispelling the heat on her face, Helga avoided eye contact and merely shook her head. She could only hope that Derek would promptly change the weather. _

"_Why, Miss Pataki…you're turning redder than my strawberry cheesecake…which I have yet to finish. Do you want the rest?" he asked, successfully changing the subject, but only after causing her to blush more. _

_Helga smiled at the opportunity to remedy her past slip up. "No thanks, I'm…I'm actually allergic to strawberries." she said, shrugging. _

"_Really? That's not a very common allergy." Derek noted. "How'd you happen to find out?"_

_Helga laughed to herself, dropping her head slightly. "Funny story, really. It was my sister, Olga's, sweet sixteen, and my dad bought her this gigantic cake. I mean, I know I was only four, but, it was the biggest cake I'd ever seen in my whole life. And I was so jealous, I mean, on my birthday that year, all I got was a store-bought cake with no candles on it! Anyway, while they were in the next room opening presents, I climbed on the dinner table and absolutely dove into that cake!" she said, throwing back her head to laugh. "I mean, there was pink frosting and pink cake and pink candles flying everywhere, and I was shoving handfuls of that stuff into my mouth. Getting back at her like that; it was the greatest feeling ever._

"_That is," Helga said, her tone changing. "Until I walked into the next room, covered in cake and crying because my arms started to itch. And then my legs, and my face, and then all over." she said, closing her eyes at the memory. "Anyway, I went to the emergency room, and they told me I had an extreme allergy to strawberries, and that it'd probably stay with me forever. I wasn't too upset, I mean, it was my first encounter with the fruit, and it wasn't a very good one." she said, finishing her story. _

"_Wow. So, I'm guessing there's no medication you can take for that?" he asked. _

"_There is, but I'm not really in the mood for singing in Spanish these days." Helga replied, smiling. _

"_Singing? In Spanish?" Derek asked. "Okay, I've got to hear this one…" Helga went on to relate the story of the 'Senior Trip', including the school's bright idea to send the top five percent of the graduating class on a trip with barely any supervision, and excluding any mention of her sharing a room with Arnold. There was no end to where his mind would take a confession like that. She figured that his laughter at the part where she being singing incoherently in Spanish meant that she wasn't making him uncomfortable with her many exploits with strawberries. _

"_Okay, that one definitely beats the cake story. Plus, I feel much better laughing at you now, than as a four year old who got revenge on her sister's cake." Derek said. _

"_Gee, thanks."_

"_But, seriously," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I think it's great that your friends care about you that much. You guys are obviously really close. I had a really good time hanging out with you guys last night."_

"_Really?" Helga asked, not meaning to sound as unbelieving as she did. _

"_Don't sound so surprised. Your friends are really great."_

"_I know that, it's just…sometimes, I think people don't try to befriend us because we're so close. Like we're some impenetrable clique that no one can break into." Helga admitted. "We've just known each other for a long time."_

"_Well, I can tell how close you guys are. Even you and Arnold; you guys are really good…friends." he said, planting a close-lipped smile on his lips and looking inconspicuous. _

_Helga heard his hesitation at the word "friends" and saw through the smile he was giving her. If nothing else, he was planning to test her response, and she couldn't really blame him. Had the roles been switched, she would have done the same thing, though probably more discreet. _

"_Yeah, he's been one of my best friends for a while now." Helga said, resting her chin on one of her fists. _

"_Just friends?" he asked tentatively. Helga could have sworn that she heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but this didn't surprise her much. If people weren't immediately put off by her close friendship with Phoebe, Gerald and Arnold, they were definitely disconcerted about her closeness to the latter. _

_Helga offered him a small, slightly devious smile, before speaking. "Why, Mr. Bailey, you're turning redder than your slice of strawberry cheesecake…and to answer your question, yes, we're just friends."_

"_Alright…" Derek began skeptically, leaning back in his booth. "Just wanted to make sure that I'm not getting in the way of anything."_

"_Trust me, I'd let you know if you were 'getting in the way'."_

* * *

"BREAK!" came a voice, crashing down on the occupants of the room and bringing them back to attention. Although happy for the respite (though they were all certain that it would be brief), they groaned and left the room to lounge around in the stairwell, where it was inevitably cooler.

Helga broke away from the group of dancers first, leaning her back against the wall parallel to the mirrors, and slid down to a sitting position. Covering her sweat glazed face with her hands, she barely heard the footsteps coming toward her. She did however, feel the slight kick that she got on her thigh. Looking up slowly, she spotted Leslie, looking authoritative, as usual. Her hands were on her hips, he brow was furrowed, and her eye was still blue. This made her smile despite her dull mood. She was sure that Leslie would have kicked her harder, but the eye was a warning against coming in contact with Helga's bad side.

"What?" she asked, to the standing Leslie.

"I just wanted to tell you-" she began, haughtily, before Helga interrupted her. Leslie's tone set her off quickly, and she was set to put it to an end, before she could get any further.

"I know, okay?! I know! I'm lazy, and slacking, and overweight! I get it! Back off!" she said, pushing herself up off of the floor, and starting Leslie down. A few girls who were close enough to them, began gathering again, possibly readying themselves for round two. Even Lila stepped forward, looking worried.

"I was just going to say, you psycho, that you seem…upset, and I wanted to know, if you…I don't know…." she said, looking uncomfortable with the premise of being cordial with Helga.

"If what?" Helga asked, calming herself down.

"I don't know, if your grandmother died or something. Your dancing is sloppier than usual, in case you weren't aware." she finished.

Helga rolled her eyes. She couldn't stand it when Leslie was being an outright brat, but she wasn't sure if she could handle her being "nice" (or at least Leslie's version of it). "Thanks, I think."

"Whatever. Sorry about your grandmother." Leslie said quickly, before leaving.

Helga turned from the rapidly dissipating group of girls and rubbed her temples. It had been three days since she last spoke to Arnold; since he last hurled his angry words at her. Just thinking about them made her head hurt more, and as much as she told herself that he didn't really mean them, that he was angry, they still hurt. Before she properly wipe away the tears that were brimming her eyes, she was distracted by the person skipping toward her happily.

"Guess what?!" Lila said, looking excited, and carrying her pink duffel bag.

"What?" Helga asked softly, keeping her voice from cracking.

Lila dropped the duffel bag, and began shuffling around in it. "I didn't think they actually existed, but I saw it yesterday, and I absolutely had to buy it." she said. "Look!" she exclaimed, pulling two identical bottles from her bag and thrusting one at Helga.

Taking the bottle, Helga read the label out loud. "_Peach Flavored Diet Iced Tea Infused Lemongrass Chamomile Vitamin Enhanced Water_? It's real?" she asked, breaking into a small smile.

"I know, right! I thought I made that up! Maybe I should try and collect some royalties. And look at the label! It's actually says 'It's Deliciously Pretentious!' If that's not Leslie, I don't know what is!" Lila said, reading the label, and smiling.

Helga nodded, trying to smile as well. Tossing the plastic container from hand to hand, Helga dropped her chin and blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears in her eyes. Lila, though fascinated with the possibility of making money from a drink that she would more than likely hate, Helga's silenced didn't go unnoticed. Her look of elation, quickly returned to worry, more so than when she thought that Helga and Leslie were going to fight (again).

"Hey, what's wrong?" Lila said, dropping her bottle of flavored water, and standing close to Helga. "Did Derek do something?"

Helga laughed a little, before shaking her head. "No, Derek didn't do anything. I had…I had a fight. With Arnold."

"What happened?"

"He said some things, and it's been bothering me. A lot. I should just get over it, but…" Helga said, releasing a heavy sigh. "I'm so _angry _at him right now, Lye. I can't focus on anything right now. I had Volleyball practice on Monday, which I nearly missed, and when I go there, I kept making all these _stupid _mistakes. And why? Because my best friend can't be happy for me. It's so frustrating! " she said, running both hands through her hair. "And despite all this, I can't bring myself to hate him. I didn't want this to happen, I just…"

Lila wrinkled her face, looking both worried and interested. She waited a minute before asking her question. "Do you…want me to talk to him? I won't tell him what you told me." she said, sounding sympathetic.

Helga was glad that when Lila chose to pry, she at least offered to do so with some tact. "No. I'm sure we'll figure this out, it's just going to have to take a while."

"What…what exactly did he-"

"It doesn't matter." Helga said, abruptly. "You know what? I'm gonna be okay. I mean, I didn't do anything wrong; he's the one who has a problem, not me, right?"

"Righ-"

"Exactly! And if he doesn't think he can be my friend just because I'm with Derek, then it's his own fault. " Helga said, standing up straighter. "I'm gonna be okay, right?"

"Of cour-" Lila began.

"Yeah…everything is going to be just…fine."

Lila nodded, and picked up her bottle, looking a little taken aback at Helga's sudden shift in mood. . "Well, I hope everything turns out okay. And don't drink all of that at once." she joked, lifting her duffel bag and turning away from Helga.

Helga shook her head and smiled, eyeing the label of the bottle. The contents looked like water, but the label read that almost every other element on earth was included. Squinting to see the fine print, she read it to herself. "_This product does not include peaches, ice, tea, lemongrass, chamomile, or vitamins. It's pretty much just water_." Rolling her eyes, Helga tossed the drink aside, and took her place in the group, where Leslie was gathering the girls for another run-through of the routine.

"Hey, where's Lila?" Leslie asked, looking peeved and searching the room.

Helga looked around as well, shrugging her shoulders when she saw that Lila wasn't in the room. "She probably went to the bathroom, or something." she said to Leslie.

* * *

Red. Red. Red.

They were all red.

Arnold spread his prints over the countertop and stared at them. Each one was a different shade of the color, but they all possessed the same problem. They were red.

They weren't supposed to be red.

They were supposed to be people's hands.

Growing frustrated, Arnold trudged back into the darkroom, his eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light, and stood in front of his enlarger. Turning it on, he reviewed the filters, again. Before he could begin adjusting his colors, a voice came from somewhere behind him. And he had to admit, he wasn't terribly pleased to hear it.

"Still red, huh?"

"_Still red, huh?" _Arnold repeated to himself. _The nerve of that guy. Everyone knows that his prints are all perfect, and he has the audacity to come back in here and try to make them better. _

"Yeah, they are." he said, getting more and more frustrated. Turning the knob over the magenta and yellow icons, Arnold watched as the light that shined down over the table top turned and even darker shade of red.

"Did you try plugging in more red?" Derek asked. Arnold could hear that he was closer to him now, probably coming to look over his shoulder.

"I am. It's not working." Arnold replied, trying to keep his anger down. It wasn't Derek's fault that he used daylight film indoors, thus creating an impenetrable red hue over all of his photos. But it was Derek's fault that he was upset. It was Derek's fault that he was distracted. And it was Derek's fault that he was currently not speaking to his best friend.

Arnold relaxed his brow. Maybe it wasn't Derek's fault that he and Helga were fighting, but his presence certainly wasn't helping. Even though he had yet to speak to Helga since their fight, he still saw her. He saw her pull up to school, park her car, and light up when she saw that Derek was waiting for her at the front steps. He watched her stroll down the crowded hallway, seeming to walk alone, only for the crowd to part slightly, revealing a hand clasped tightly in hers. And on one occasion, he found himself in the English Wing of the school, and chanced upon Helga taking a break from grading papers, headphones in her ears and a blissful smile on her face, even though she was alone. He didn't need three guesses to figure out what she was thinking about.

She was fine without him. So why couldn't he move on from the incident as flawlessly?

"Well, good luck, man. Let me know how it turns out." Derek said, leaving the darkroom.

'It'll probably turn out _red_.' Arnold said under his breath, before turning off the light and placing another print under the enlarger. After he exposed it for twenty or so seconds, he placed it in the developer, and walked back out into the lit classroom.

As soon as he stepped into the light, a sharp pain met the left side of his face, coming out of nowhere it seemed. Resting his hand on his face, he looked around for the source of the blow, and when his eyes finally drifted down, he saw it.

Or, rather, _her_.

"What was _that _for?!" he asked, angrily.

"For being a humungous idiot!" Lila said, looking up at Arnold irately.

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about, moron?! You said something to Helga, and it's got her all…out of sorts!" Lila said.

"What?"

"You heard me! She's dancin' all funky, and she can't play volleyball, and today, Leslie kicked her. And she didn't even do anything."

Arnold felt upset at himself for a moment, before his brief (and quickly dissolving) anger at Helga took over. "She'll be fine in a few days, I'm sure." he said, moving around Lila.

Lila on the other hand wasn't satisfied with his response, and in turn, stepped in front of him again, so that he couldn't move. "It's not just that, Arnold. She's angry, and distracted, I can tell that much, but it's something else. She cried, Arnold. Helga never cries, and she definitely never cries in front of me." she said, softening her voice. "You really hurt her, Arnold."

Arnold kept quiet for a few moments, and Lila wondered if he heard her, or if he even cared. He said something to himself, so low that he could barely hear it himself.

"What?" Lila said, stepping forward.

"I said, 'I know.' I know I hurt her. I was careless, and stupid, and…."

"…and jealous." Lila finished for him, looking sympathetic.

Arnold met her eyes. "And jealous." he said, sinking down in a nearby chair. "But you have to understand where I'm coming from."

"And _you _have to understand where _Helga's _coming from, Arnold. She's been waiting for you to notice her since…well, take it from me, she's been waiting for a really long time. And after you guys came back from New York, she thought that you were finally starting to see her as more than just your 'really, really good friend'. But then, you…pulled away, for no reason, and she was left confused. _Again_."

"I know that what I did was wrong. But I never left her, I never told her that I _didn't _care about her." he said.

"You also never told her that you _did _care about her, at least not how she wanted, and on a consistent basis. " Lila replied, sitting down across the heavy black table from him. "If you _really _liked her, you'd have jumped out of that picnic basket and said, 'Here I am! I'm ready to be your lunch!' But you hesitated, and now, she's off with some other sandwich." Lila said simply.

Arnold slowly looked up to meet Lila's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Or, you'd have came from behind that ice cream counter and said, 'Helga, put down that Gelato. I'm all the sugary frozen goodness you'll ever need!'" she said, as if to clarify herself.

"Lila, you're making absolutely no sense." Arnold said, simply.

"That doesn't matter. Your job now isn't to convince Helga that you're the best man for the job. All you have to do, is prove that you're her best friend. You guys are way too close to let something like this get in the way." she said, before standing up and slipping out of the room.

Arnold knew that Lila was right, but he wasn't sure if they'd be able to recover from the confrontation. It would take a lot of humility on his part, and a lot of mercy on Helga's.

* * *

Helga was normally, not accustomed to watching her progress. In regards to anything. At least not until she was finished with her task. But something about the bright red lights drew her eye with nearly every step she took.

'.5 miles to destination.'

More than eager to free herself from the contraption and the sweat-scented gym, Helga couldn't have been happier to see the message flash across the screen in front of her. These were the times when she wondered why she even indulged in a gym membership. Aside from Lila's amazing skill of persuasion, she could find no other good reasons.

Arnold's face flashed in her mind.

Oh right, _that's _why.

Helga had two methods of dispelling anger: she wrote, which was not an option as of now, because she was too angry to so much as hold a pen, let alone form words. If she wasn't writing, she was running. Because of a routine rainstorm, she was driven inside.

On the other hand, she found nothing about the gym to be appealing. The women's section was nice, she had to admit, but the rest of the gym was…well, it was a gym. There was machinery that people poured their own sweat over, and refused to wipe off when they were done using it, there were grown men wearing tank tops, there were prepubescent boys wearing tank tops, there were both grown women and prepubescent girls wearing hardly anything. It was the gym. Plain and simple.

Since she entered, she was hit on twice and nearly decapitated with a set of weights once. A pleasant day so far at the gym.

'.1 miles to destination.'

Helga began slowing down, and closed her eyes. She tried to think of anything but Arnold, but he had a funny way of sneaking back into her thoughts. She was angry at him; she knew that much, but she didn't hate him. She couldn't hate Arnold if she tried. But, she wanted to tell him how angry she was without resorting to the means that he had.

While her eyes were shut, Helga heard someone climb atop the treadmill next to her and she nearly groaned. At least she was getting off in a few minutes. Just then, a strange sound came from her own treadmill. It wasn't the annoying beep the signaled an end to a work out. Uncovering her face, she saw her machine reset itself.

"What the he-" she began to say.

"Race you to a mile?" came a voice from next to her. Had it been anyone else who touched her machine, she probably would have introduced them to Old Betsy. But, she was in no mood, and this person didn't seem too fond of the use of her fists as of late.

"You're on." Helga said, watching as Gerald changed the speed to match hers, and they began running on their separate devices.

After a minute, Gerald spoke. "So…how are things?" he said, casually.

Helga inwardly groaned at his energy. Then again, he didn't just nearly run three miles. "Fine." she said through clenched teeth.

"You don't sound fine. Come on, Helga, we're friends. You can talk to me." Gerald said, grinning.

"Okay, you wanna know how I am? I suck at volleyball, my dancing is sloppy, my best friend hates me and some idiot just walked into the gym and reset my treadmill after I was this close to reaching three miles. That's how I am today." she replied. She was, in no way, angry with Gerald. But, her frustrations were piling up, and she had no one to vent to at the moment. She told Phoebe (in summary) what happened, but left out much of what Arnold said to her. She didn't see any reason in causing a rift between Phoebe and Gerald, with each one wanting to satiate their friend.

"An extra mile won't kill you." Gerald said. "And what happened between you and Arnold?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

"Okay, I'll admit", Gerald began, still smiling. "He told me that you two weren't speaking, and that it's largely his fault."

"Largely?! It's entirely his fault!" Helga said, almost losing her balance atop the treadmill. "Did he tell you what he said to me? He said, I was dating Derek because he pays attention to me, and that's all I look for in a guy because my parents have no time for me."

"Ouch." Gerald said, shaking his head a little.

"Ouch indeed! And then, he compares me to Viola! _Viola_, Gerald!" Helga said, angrily.

"Who's Viola?"

Helga rolled her eyes. Maybe she didn't have enough reason to be mad at Arnold. All boys seemed to suffer from this level of density. "The skank at the dance show? Derek's ex?"

"Oh, right." he said, nodding. "Well, can I just tell you something?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

"I think you should go talk to him."

"What?!" Helga asked, looking shocked. "_I _should go talk to _him_? Why can't _he _come and talk to _me_? I didn't do anything!"

"I know, I know, and as much as I'm sure that Arnold saying all that stuff hurt you, but…" Gerald began, trailing off.

"But…?"

"But, both of you guys had a part in this. His part was just…bigger. Do you know what I mean?"

"Not even a little bit." Helga replied, looking completely unfazed.

"Okay, let me clarify. You and Arnold, came back from Brooklyn and had…something. Don't worry about explaining what it was. I don't wanna know. But whatever it was, it lacked communication. Because, both of you presumed that the other was thinking what you were thinking." Helga responded with more heavy breathing, running, and a confused look on her face. "Okay, let's try this. Did you ever tell Arnold how you felt about him? I mean really told him?"

Helga tried to think. After they came back, the two went on a few dates; real dates, not the kind with Phoebe and Gerald. Just the two of them, going out for an evening. Even when he'd get on her nerves, and take other girls out, seemingly oblivious to her plight, Helga was always certain that he was aware of her feelings, even though she never actually told him.

"I guess I didn't. But he still should have known!" she said defensively.

"How?" Gerald asked, skeptically.

"Because…" Helga said, searching her mind. "Remember the time he told me he couldn't give me a ride to Marcia Heath's pool party, and then showed up with Deborah, from tenth grade who thought that Australia was in Europe?"

"I really think that girl just confused 'Australia' with 'Austria', Helga." when he received an exasperated look from her, he resumed the former conversation. "Yeah, I rememebr the time. What'd you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything. I stopped speaking to him for a week." she replied simply.

"No wonder he didn't respond!" Gerald said, turning up the speed on his machine.

"What?!" turning hers up as well. She was finding it harder to keep up with Gerald, physically and conversationally.

"We're guys. We don't like to talk. We get uncomfortable when you girls talk too much. So when you, as a being that is naturally prone to speaking, decides to stop doing so, we're happy! We like it! He probably thought that everything between you two was copasetic."

"What does 'copasetic' mean?" Helga asked, slightly frustrated by Gerald's revelation.

"It means, 'it's all gravy'."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means 'it's all good in the proverbial hood'."

"But it's not, Gerald! It's not all good in the hood! It's pretty bad in the hood, right now!" she said. "So, are you saying, that this whole time, it was really my fault?"

"No. Essentially, it's no one's fault. You never told Arnold that you wanted your relationship to be more…serious, and he never told you that you guys were just friends. No one's at fault, but no one's innocent, either."

Helga bit her lip and sighed. "So what do I do now?" she asked quietly, feeling enlightened, but still lost as to how to remedy her friendship with Arnold.

"I suggest you go talk to him, and figure this whole mess out." Gerald said, his machine beginning to slow down.

"I still don't get why I have to go initiate the conversation." Helga said, smiling.

Gerald took the towel from the handle of his treadmill and wiped down the machine. Swinging it over his shoulder, he called back. "I told you. We're guys. We don't know how to initiate conversation. Good luck with everything."

Helga stood motionless on her treadmill. She looked at the blinking screen and sighed again.

'You have reached your destination.' it read.

"I hope so."

* * *

"Hey Helga! I'm sorry I said all that stuff about your parents and your boyfriend, and if you hate me forever, I completely understand…"

"Helga. I am sincerely sorry, and I hope that you'll forgive me for my hurtful and ill-conceived words…"

"Helga. I think that your boyfriend might be the Devil, and whatever I said about him, is entirely plausible…"

No matter how Arnold put it, it always sounded wrong. Pacing the room, Arnold sought some way to release his frustrations. He thought of how Helga usually went about dispelling her anger. Looking out of his skylight window, at the small pools of water that collected above him, he surmised that it was too wet to go running. Thinking further, he also rationalized that he was not a skilled enough writer, in his own mind, to write anything that would coherently vent his frustrations at himself or the situation.

Falling backwards on his bed, Arnold attempted to take a quick nap to clear his head, when he was met with an object that smarted the center of his lower back. Reaching around, he pulled his cell phone from under him and angrily threw it against the nearest wall.

'That's great, Arnold. Let's resort to throwing things around when we can't get our way…'

Arnold tried again to clear his head, but a sound from the other side of the room alarmed him. His cell phone. Thinking it to be in obvious disrepair, he halfheartedly picked himself up from the bed and answered it.

"Hello?"

Arnold was met with a very pregnant pause. He heard the soft breathing on the other end, before he heard the voice. "Hi." the voice replied, hesitantly. "It's me."

Arnold drew the phone away from his face to check the caller ID. Helga, it read, sending a wave of panic through Arnold. He wanted to speak with Helga, more than anything, but he wasn't sure A) how to or B) when he was actually going to do it.

"Oh," he said, speaking into the mouthpiece, quickly. "Hi."

"Hi." Helga said, sounding more relieved. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling nervous. "What are you up to?"

"Umm…nothing." Arnold said, looking around the room. 'Just planning how I'm going to apologize to you for being a 'humungous idiot'.' he thought. "What about you? You sound like you're running."

"Not quite." Helga replied. "Look, umm…I'd really like to talk to you. Face to face. If that's okay."

"That sounds great." Arnold said, relieved. "When did you want to meet?"

"In about, four seconds, when you walk to your fire escape and let me in." she said, playfully, before hanging up.

Walking over to the window and pushing it open, Arnold looked down and saw Helga leaning backward over the railing of the fire escape. She didn't wave, or offer any grand gesture of forgiveness. She only tilted her head up, and gave Arnold a small smile.

There was hope.

* * *

_Yikes. That may be my longest chapter of The Compromise, to date. Sorry if it seemed to be dragging on. I tend to do that. Alright, time for a ridiculously long author's note/AIL:_

_AIL (Art Imitating Life):_

_- __Peach Flavored Diet Iced Tea Infused Lemongrass Chamomile Vitamin Enhanced Water is referenced in chapter…12, I believe. Maybe earlier. Anyway, for my Photoshop class in college, we had to create a fictional beverage and create a bottle label, and a bottle and a magazine ad. I'll probably put it up on my site._

_-In reference to Arnold's pictures being red. I don't know how many of you are photography savvy (I, most definitely, am not) but here's a synapsis of how color photos are developed. Color Photo paper has color in the paper, and when a certain colored light is shone (shined? Shone?) on the paper, then, other colors appear. In my Photo class, I used daylight film (meant for use outdoors) indoors, and even with a filter, it made all my prints terribly red. In the chapter, when Derek asks Arnold if he "plugged in more red, that means that when a print is too much of a color, like for instance…red, you would make the light over the paper even more red, because it'll absorb the red in the paper and make it less red. Photography is a sometimes, very backwards art form. In Arnold's case as well as mine, it did not work. The difference between myself and Arnold in this case, is that he had other things on his mind, to distract him from his photos and I…sat and cried in the corner of the darkroom. My art makes me very emotional._

_-Don't be mad about the whoele "We guys don't tlike to talk" comment, up there. I wa told this, verbatim, by a guy. Though, thre are xceptions, I'm gonna go ahead and apply it to the lot of you. _

_-Speaking of emotional…things, I have urgent "Roses are Red" news! First of all, "Roses are Red", is officially complete! All remaining chapters have been written and edited, and will be posted…soon. I was very sad to see this end, but I sincerely hope everyone likes it. Also, some of you have frequented my site to view character photos. Well, in the Roses are Red section, I now have my three-part photo essay (also from my Photoshop class) that is "Roses are Red" themed. My professor was thoroughly freaked out by it, but she said it was nicely put together and that my story behind it is different, to say the least. So check it out. Please and Thank you. _

_That is all. Thank you for reading!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	20. Absolutely Nothing

_**The Compromise**_

_**Chapter 19: Absolutely Nothing**_

_"Oh, I don't believe it.  
That I could be so deceiving  
And bringing you down,  
You feel this lack of loyalty._

You were a song in my head,  
The warmth of the sheets in my bed.  
A story forever told, but never old,  
A warm arrival never left so cold."

_**Sherwood-"Song In my Head"**_

* * *

"So…can I get you anything?"

'Wow,' Helga thought, raising an eyebrow. 'He must be sorry. He's offering to get something for me, instead of making me raid the fridge on my own…'

"Well, I did just come back from the gym, so, I should probably indulge in something healthy and nutritious." she stated.

"Which translates to 'anything covered in chocolate'." Arnold asked, allowing himself to smile for the first time that day.

"You got it." Helga said, before Arnold exited the room. Helga took a seat on the unfolded red couch, and rubbed her temples. '_Okay, I know what I have to do. Own up to what I did. Don't point fingers. Don't accuse. Don't get angry. Well…don't get_ too _angry._' she thought. She tried to remember what Gerald said, that she played a part, albeit how small it was, it effected the way their friendship had been since.

In a matter of minutes, Arnold returned, managing to climb the stairs and close the door with his foot to avoid spilling the contents of the two plates in his hands. "Unfortunately," he announced, handing one of the plates to Helga. "We are fresh out of chocolate covered _anything_, but I managed to find some of my grandma's tiramisu. It's pretty good."

"Thanks." Helga said, taking the plate and eating apprehensively.

"So, how is it?" Arnold asked, some time later. The silence was beginning to get to him, even though, he welcomed it, considering the circumstances. Rather a silent, peaceful Helga, than one threatening to hurl her plate of tiramisu at him.

"It's really good." Helga stated. "Any chances that your grandmother is Italian?"

"Not likely." Arnold answered. "Though, I have the feeling that she may have rescued some Italian missionaries a few winters ago."

"Come again?"

"Nothing."

Arnold let the conversation die for a few seconds before starting with the new, less comedic conversation that the two of them knew was inevitable. "Do I need three guesses as to why you're here?" he asked, still smiling.

"Gerald said it's because you're a man, and men don't know how to initiate conversation." Helga said, smiling. She knew that he wouldn't take offense to it. "Do I need three guesses as to why you've invited me into your home so politely, and offered me food?"

Arnold shrugged his shoulder. "Lila said it's because you've run off with another sandwich and I need to get from behind a picnic basket or out of an ice cream truck. Or something to that effect."

Helga shook her head. "I'm so glad our friends are too kind to bother intruding into our personal affairs."

"I didn't mind it too much. Actually, I didn't care too much for the slap in the face. But, I didn't understand a lot of what she was saying, so it's fine."

"Lila _slapped_ you?!" Helga asked, in shock.

"Yeah. A small penance for my crimes." he said, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry, Helga. I know it's a little late to be saying so, but I really am."

Taking a deep breath, Helga rested her, now empty, plate on the floor, and looked at Arnold earnestly. "Well, I'm sorry too."

"You? Why are _you _sorry?"

"Because, after the trip, I came home and assumed that you knew what I was thinking. And when you did something contrary to what I thought you knew, I'd just get mad and stop talking to you for a while, when I really should have just told you what I wanted from the start." Helga said, feeling a surge of pride. She surmised that the conversation was faring well, so far.

"And, what exactly did you want?" Arnold asked timidly.

Helga's face, and confidence suddenly dropped. '_I have to actually _tell _him?! I don't remember _that _from the course outline! Thanks a lot, Gerald!_' "Um…well, what I wanted, at the time was…"

"Was…?"

"At the time, I wouldn't have minded if you asked me out for pizza, without the premise of knowing that we were just tagging along on one of Phoebe and Gerald's dates. I wouldn't have minded if you'd have introduced me to your close, personal friends as something other than your "Right-Hand Man". And I probably wouldn't have minded if seeing you with someone who was so amazingly perfect didn't make me so angry at you."

Arnold sat quietly, watching Helga wring her hands over and over. He had to admit, he wasn't entirely blind to Helga's plight. But, he always summed it up to her being in a bad mood, or simply not liking whatever girl he was temporarily dating. He never knew the reason behind it, and certainly never inquired as to why. "I'm sorry. I never knew."

"And I never really told you." Helga admitted. "Who knows, maybe things would have been different. But I can't say for sure if they'd have been better. I think that's why I was so hesitant to say anything. I'd rather be stuck in a limbo; between being your friend or your…whatever, than not have you in my life at all." Helga then took a deep breath, as if reeling from sharing so much of herself at once. She'd have been lying if she said it was something she was used to. "You're my best friend, Arnold, and I shouldn't have to choose between having a best friend and a boyfriend."

"Then don't." Arnold replied simply. Part of him was wondering why the situation was so tense to begin with.

"You make it sound so easy." Helga replied. "Let's just agree to let bygones, be bygones, okay? I'm sorry, you're sorry…the creepy guy from the Burger King commercials is sorry. Are we cool?"

"Not yet." Arnold said, shifting around atop his bed. "I didn't have any right saying what I said to you. You've been through enough with your parents without me rubbing it in your face. I really am sorry, Helga."

"Water under the bridge, Football Head." Helga said, reinstating the old nickname.

"I will say this much," Arnold began. "It's going to be weird…Helga Pataki liking someone. I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures for future documentation."

"I liked _you_…" she said jokingly, but continuing on, to avoid the awkward silence that was sure to follow. "And besides, who says I like Derek, anyway?"

Arnold looked at Helga seriously. "Who are you trying to fool?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Arnold sat up straight, batted his eyelashes, and smiled, turning his head so that his chin touched his shoulder. "_Oh Derek_", he said, in a high-pitched voice. "_You're so funny. Why yes Derek, I'd love a ride home. Oh Derek, you dance divinely_…"

Helga picked up the nearest object, which happened to be an old paintbrush, and hurled it at Arnold, hitting him on the arm. "First of all, I don't talk like that, nor have I ever said any of those things."

"Regardless, you were practically swooning the other night. It was actually kind of funny." Arnold admitted.

"You're one to talk!" Helga shouted. "You looked like you were going to come across the table at Derek when he called Phoebe and Gerald "guys". What was up with that?"

"That's different, Helga. You, Phoebe, Gerald…you guys are _my _friends, _my _roll-dogs, _my _homies."

"Don't ever say '_homies_' again. Or '_roll-dogs_'. What exactly _is_ a roll-dog anyway?" Helga asked.

"Regardless, you don't just call people 'guys' if you don't know them well enough to call them your guys. That's just how it is. Those are the rules." Arnold explained. "But don't make decisions based on my radar. For what it's worth, He seems like a nice guy, and he's even relatively bearable."

"Gee, thanks." Helga replied, jokingly. "Oh, and I figured out how you can pay me back."

"Pay you back?" Arnold asked.

"Yup. You're not going to be busy this Saturday, are you?"

* * *

Closing her laptop, Helga leaned back on her bed and sighed contently. She came home from Arnold's later than expected (especially after revealing what his punishment would be, he complained for nearly an hour), and missed dinner. She contemplated sneaking downstairs to find something to eat, but she was still tired.

"Helga?" came a muffled voice from the other side of her closed door.

Helga said up and groggily replied, inviting her mother inside. Miriam stepped through the door apprehensively, smiling at Helga. Helga smiled in reply, and moved her laptop aside.

"You were out late, so I saved you some dinner." Miriam said, resting a plate of lasagna and a glass of water on Helga's bed. "It's the frozen kind, that comes in a box, but um, I thought you'd be hungry."

Helga smiled at her mom and then at the food. "Thanks." she said, taking the plate into her lap. She watched silently as Miriam began moving back toward the door, readying to leave. "Hey, Mom?"

Turning around, Miriam faced hr daughter. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I said that you wouldn't have come to my show. I know you'd have tried to make it, at least. And I'm sorry I didn't remind you." Helga said, humbly.

Miriam looked like she was going to cry for a moment, but quickly pulled herself together, something that didn't escape Helga's notice. "And I'm sorry I missed it." she said, quietly. "Let me know when the next one is, please?"

Helga nodded and allowed her mother to leave. Starting into her late dinner, Helga laughed at the course that the day happened to go in. '_Let's see…Tiramisu, followed by making up with Arnold, then lasagna, followed by making up with Miriam._' Helga thought, chewing thoughtfully. '_Let's just hope Derek doesn't decide to take me out for spaghetti anytime soon. I've had enough humility for one week._'

* * *

The lunchroom was busier than usual, but Arnold still managed to find a table to sit at alone. Flipping through some of his older photos, Arnold attempted to pinpoint the problems within each of them. Some were too dark or poorly shot or badly developed. He was steadily building up his portfolio, but he wanted there to be one shoot that would somehow bring all of his hard work together.

"Can we sit down?"

Looking up, Arnold found Phoebe standing before him, holding a tray of food. He wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to ask if she could sit down.

"Sure." he answered, looking around for the other person (inevitably Gerald) who made up the other portion of "we". "Where's Gerald?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Trying to weasel another slice of pizza out of the lunch lady. I swear, he's got the Mariana Trench settled in his stomach."

"He's been trying to get free food almost every day this week. He really should just give up." Arnold suggested.

"I'm not so sure, Arnold." Phoebe interjected. "He's been practicing his lines, and I think he's getting close."

"Ten bucks says he comes here with one slice." Arnold said, extending his hand toward Phoebe from across the table.

"Deal." she replied, shaking Arnold's hand. "By the way, how have you been? I haven't seen you around school over the past few days."

"I'm okay, Phoebe. I guess Helga told you that we patched everything up." Arnold asked, reading the look in Phoebe's eyes. Of course she saw him around school; she was just more concerned about the situation between two of her friends.

"She did. I'm glad to hear it. The two of you were a sad sight." Phoebe regarded, smiling. "In fact, I'm not sure I've seen the two of you act like that since…never mind."

"Since when?"

Phoebe juggled the words in her head, considering how best to express herself without needlessly offending Arnold. "Since…Gerald and I started dating." Arnold wrinkled his brow in confusion and Phoebe continued. "Helga felt the same way you were probably feeling. She thought I was going to forget all about her just because I started dating Gerald. And, needless to say, I'm sure that I wasn't your favorite person for a while."

Arnold offered Phoebe a look of shock at her words, but he was sure that she knew the truth. Drowning in the newness of his relationship with Phoebe, Gerald began spending less and less time with Arnold, who, suddenly found himself holding a certain amount of disdain for Phoebe. The feeling had long since disappeared, but he didn't feel so great about Phoebe being perceptive enough to know about it.

"Don't worry about it, Arnold. Helga is, and will always be, Helga. Plus, the two of you have a really solid friendship. Derek's nervousness about it, is a testament to that, if nothing else." she finished.

"Wait, what do you-"

"All hail the king of pizza! For he reigns, with a scepter of pepperoni and a heart of cheese. And all the villagers live in-"

"So, I'm assuming you got another slice?" Phoebe asked a standing Gerald. She was shocked that he was actually able to do so in a short matter of time.

"You are correct, my lady. There are no limits to my persuasive skills." he announced, taking a seat next to her.

"You know what they say, 'The worst part of success is finding someone who is happy for you." he said, digging in. "So, what were the two of you talking about?" he asked, a mouthful of food, causing Arnold and Phoebe to tilt away from him.

"Helga and I are back on speaking terms." Arnold stated, simply.

"What did I tell you? My powers of persuasion never fail! I should have an infomercial…." Gerald said, loudly.

"Gerald, it's just a slice of greasy, nasty, high-school cafeteria pizza. And, if you must know, greater than you 'powers of persuasion' is the power behind a slap in the face from Lila Sawyer. Literally." Arnold informed his friend.

Gerald only brushed off his friend's comment as Phoebe spoke. "Even with your skills, I wasn't sure you'd actually do it." Phoebe answered, staring back at her own food.

Gerald shook his head at her skepticism. "Behind every successful man, there is a surprised woman."

"Or best friend." Phoebe said, holding out her hand to Arnold, and smiling. "I believe the wager was ten dollars."

Arnold reached into his pocket to fish out the money. First Lila, then Helga, then Phoebe. The women in his life were out to humble him in every way they could, physically, emotionally and financially.

* * *

"Remember to let it drip for a while."

"Gotcha."

"And don't drop it in the fixer; it'll just splash all over the place."

"I'm on it."

"And-"

"Derek. I've definitely done this before. Why don't you go over there and shine some light on that pretty piece of paper?" Helga said, teasingly. She volunteered to help Derek after school, but spend most of the afternoon keeping him from over her shoulder. He was acting like more of an annoying mosquito than a boyfriend at the moment.

"I know, I know, but I really want these to be perfect. They're the most important things to me." he said, pleadingly.

"Wow." Helga replied, regarding the photo that was submerged in the liquid before her. "Good thing your girlfriend isn't here, otherwise you'd be in a load of trouble." she said, smiling.

"You know what I mean…and what do you mean, you've done this before?" Derek asked, adjusting the filter pack on his enlarger head.

"Sometimes Arnold would let me help with his photos and stuff." Helga answered, leaning backwards again the sink.

"Speaking of Arnold, are you two speaking again?"

"How'd you know Arnold and I weren't speaking?" Helga asked, walking toward him. They were the only two occupying the darkroom, coupled with the fact that her eyes already adjusted tot the low light, Helga ran no risk of running into anything or anyone.

"Because I didn't see you two talking…at all." Derek said. '_Not that I minded it too much…'_ he thought to himself.

"You're right. We weren't speaking, and now we are. I went over last night, and everything is copasetic." Helga replied, happily. She never told Derek the reason why she and Arnold were fighting, knowing it would cause some kind of riff between herself and Derek or Derek and Arnold (if there wasn't one there already).

"That's good to hear." Derek replied. Helga didn't miss the mendaciousness in his voice. "So, what do you want to do Saturday night?"

Helga began inspecting a few of Derek's negatives while she spoke. "Sorry, I'm babysitting Olga's twins on Saturday."

"Maybe I'll drop by." Derek suggested, sounding hopeful.

"That's probably not the best idea. Olga will probably go into shock at the thought of me having one boy in her house. Two may cause her to go into cardiac arrest.

"Two?" Derek asked, now fully distracted from his work.

"Yeah, Arnold's helping out." Helga said, nonchalantly. She was clearly unaware of Derek's reaction to her plans for the weekend. "It's payback for the fight. Even though, I technically, had a part in it too. I'm putting him on diaper duty."

Derek looked sincerely confused, something he wasn't making an effort to hide. "Why?"

"Well, he said some things, and I neglected to say some things and-"

"No, I mean, why is he allowed to go, and I can't?" Derek asked.

Helga set the negatives down and looked at Derek quizzically. This was not the adorable questionings of a new and eager boyfriend, but more like the suspicious inquiries of a skeptical guardian. "Well, for one thing, we're babysitting. To subject you to that level of torture, would be cruel on my part. And secondly, Olga _knows _Arnold, so she wouldn't have a problem with the two of us babysitting her kids."

"Maybe she could get to know me." Derek said, defiantly.

"Is this a joke? Seriously, it's not that big of a deal. We'll chat, we'll raid the fridge, and Arnold will change about 14 thousand diapers. Not a very eventful evening." Helga stated. She had half a mind to ask if he had spaghetti for dinner the night before, but decided against it.

Derek merely mumbled something to himself and turned back to his work. Helga rolled her eyes at the conversation, and asked Derek if he needed her to replace any of the chemicals.

"Actually, I think I'm just going to wrap it up on my own." he answered her, refusing to turn around, but speaking to her with his back to her.

Helga's eyebrows shot up, surprised that she was being dismissed so abruptly. Gathering her things, she bid Derek goodbye, who replied with a grunt of some kind and a chaste kiss on her cheek. Making her way into the light of the classroom, and into the hallway, Helga marveled at her inability to be in the good graces of Arnold and Derek at the same time.

'_Boys…_' she thought, exiting the school building and heading toward the parking lot.

* * *

_"Don't blink, don't close your eyes,  
And most of all, don't apologize.  
It's me who's got the demons to wrestle now._

There's a patch of blue in the stormy sky,  
A memory of a brighter time.  
When everything was new,  
And less watered down,  
Before the summer turned to brown."

* * *

_Another filler(ish) chapter. I feel like the apology part wasn't done as well as it could have been. But, I like the idea of their apology being more of a band-aid, as opposed to a cast. Their problems aren't fixed, but they're also not front and center right now. I hope I'm not slipping backwards. _

_As for the song, as you can see, it is by a band, Sherwood, and it is amazing. I'm not lying. This song **is** The Compromise. If The Compromise weren't named The Compromise, it would be called Song in My Head. If you can, find the song, listen to it with your ears. It'll all make sense in no time._

_Only one thing in Art Imitating Life, and it's small and insignificant. I went out to dinner (on my first real outing as a 21 year old, except for the fact that I didn't order a drink. But my sister and my two friends ordered drinks, and, in all honesty, we're those annoying girlfriends who share everything, and so we were sitting at out table and passing our drinks back and forth like a bunch of sorority sisters) , and the restaurant serves their dessert in shot glasses. They had chocolate cake, and apple pie and all kinds of stuff. I ordered the tiramisu. And when I finished, I ordered another one. It was great. All hail tiramisu._

_The final chapter of Roses are Red is next (maybe a few days), and I'm seriously excited. I hope you are too. Good night to all!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	21. So, It's Your Job

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 20: So, It's Your Job**

_

* * *

_

_"I can't believe I've made it here,  
Today, I'm afraid of yesterday.  
I grow as near to you, my dear,  
In case, afraid, it fades away."_

_Does It Offend You, Yeah?_

_"Epic Last Song"_

_

* * *

_

Helga sat idly on a soft brown couch, pushing number after number on the remote control in her hands. She thought about giving up, but realized what an uneventful evening would come from doing so. Half-heartedly, she turned her attention back to Olga, who was in the kitchen rambling on aimlessly.

"Did you hear anything I said, Helga?" she asked, walking into the living area, looking particularly frustrated. She was dressed in a long black gown, that she managed to fit into only six months after giving birth to twins, and had her hair pinned up.

"Yup." Helga answered, still putting in numbers. Helga could never understand Olga and Kevin's need for a Parental Lock on their television. Granted, they had twins to look after, so caution was definitely needed in choosing what TV shows they watched. But, the twins were also six months old, and would probably prefer chewing on a remote control as opposed to using it. Olga and Kevin could have forced them to watch "The Price is Right" all day, and they wouldn't have minded.

"Then what did I say?"

"The emergency numbers are not next to the phone, they're on the refrigerator, Jamie takes her milk at 27.78 degrees Celsius, but Timothy takes his at 31.67 degrees. Both of them like to play with the squirrel stuffed animal, but neither of them like the bulldog with the fireman's hat, and lastly, I am to stay far, far away from the bottle of Arbor Mist that's in the fridge." Helga recited, her eyes trained on the TV. Smiling, she looked up at her sister, who was tapping her foot impatiently. "What?" she asked innocently.

"I mean it, if one drop is gone…"

"What? You think that Arnold and I are going to get hopped up and make some bad decisions?"

"Who's getting hopped up and making bad decisions?"

Olga and Helga turned to find Kevin, nonchalantly adjusting his tie. His wide smile was contrasted only by has dark complexion and features, and alongside Olga they made a pretty good looking couple. Despite how good the two of them looked together, Helga's parents, and Big Bob in particular, had a few objections to their engagement. Helga however, was all for it from the beginning, and when Kevin told her that he asked Olga out because he'd never dated a "clinically insane girl" before, she practically gave them her blessing right then and there. In time, Big Bob and Miriam came around, especially when Olga announced that she was pregnant…with twins.

"Arnold and I are gonna hit up Olga's bottle of Arbor Mist in the fridge." Helga announced.

"Kevin!" Olga exclaimed, looking for some support from her husband.

"Helga, you know better than that…" he said, shaking his head and sounding disappointed.

"I know…" she said, feigning shame.

"You should really go for the Grey Goose on the third shelf in the pantry."

"_Ke__vin_!" Olga repeated, putting extra stress on the last syllable of his name. "If the two of you are just going to make jokes, then we can stay home!" she threatened. Yet, with her voice and generally peaceful demeanor, the threat fell short.

"I'm just playing. And you know we can trust Helga, and…what's his name again?"

"Arnold." Helga answered.

"Oh, I see what's going on…volunteering to 'babysit' and then once we leave, the boyfriend comes over…I remember those days…" Kevin said, nodding and staring off.

"Not quite. Arnold's not my boyfriend." Helga told them.

"Then why's he coming over?" Olga asked.

"Because I needed help."

"Then why didn't you ask your boyfriend?" Kevin asked.

"Silly," Olga said, slapping Kevin's shoulder. "Arnold _is _her boyfriend."

"No, he's not."

"Then who is?"

"Derek."

"Who's Derek?"

"My boyfriend."

"Is he coming over too?"

"No." Helga said, remembering her conversation with Phoebe and Lila. "Just Arnold."

"So…Arnold _isn't _the boyfriend?" Kevin asked. The doorbell rang then, and Olga, who was the only one to notice, turned from the conversation to answer it.

"Arnold!" she said, stepping forward to offer him an unexpected hug. Arnold returned the gesture, somewhat awkwardly and greeted her in reply.

"Is that Derek?" Kevin asked.

"No, that's Arnold." Helga said, tiredly.

"Hello Arnold." Kevin said, shaking his hand. "Are you the boyfriend?"

"What?" Arnold asked, obviously stepping into a conversation but feeling confused nonetheless. "No."

"Well, where _is _the boyfriend?" Kevin asked.

"He's not coming." Helga said through her teeth.

"I thought Arnold _was _your boyfriend…" Olga said, frowning in confusion.

Helga took a deep breath and drew her hand down her face. "Will the two of you please leave?" she asked.

"Well, you kids have fun, and you," Kevin said as Olga gathered her purse and coat, looking at Arnold. "Whoever you are, stay away from the vodka."

"Bye!" Olga said excitedly, waving as Helga shut the door behind them.

A few moments after the two drove away, Arnold asked, "What was that?"

"Don't ask." Helga said, walking back into the living room with Arnold following behind her. "Okay, your first job as babysitting assistant is to remove the parental lock on the TV."

"Why does your sister have a parental lock on the television?" Arnold asked, staring at the blackened screen that flashed the words "Enter Parental Code" followed by four asterisks, on it.

"Because she's…parental?" Helga answered

"But, her kids are babies. Babies can't control the TV." Arnold said, stating the obvious.

"Arnold, one thing I've come to know, after many years of being related to Olga, is not to try and make sense out of her actions. I merely, go with them, and laugh at the results." she reasoned, taking a seat on the couch.

"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold said, sitting down as well, and taking the remote.

"What's weird is that they had a parental code on the TV last year, when Olga was still pregnant, but, it's apparently different now."

"What was the code last year?"

"1714."

"Arnold scanned the room looking for clues. I couldn't have been a birthday or year of importance. Focusing on the basket of laundry that was just down the hallway, Arnold focused on the blue and white folded shirt that sat on top of the rest of the clothes. "You said it was 1714 last year?"

"Yeah."

"I think I know what the code is…" he said, pressing the numbers on the remote as he read them off. "1...2...0...4..."

Both he and Helga were surprised when the screen disappeared and ESPN showed up on the TV.

"How'd you know that?" Helga asked.

"Well, looking over there," Arnold said, pointing to the basket of laundry. "I figured that Kevin was a Giants fan. Plus, I saw the Giants bumper sticker when I pulled up. When you said that last year's code was '1714', I remembered that the Giants won the Superbowl and beat the Patriots perfect record with a win of 17-14. At present, The Giants' stats are 12-4, having clenched their division and moving on to the Playoffs." Arnold stated logically.

"Your genius never seems to fail me. I should have known though, Kevin swears that he looks just like Danny Ware." Helga said, sitting back on the couch. "Well, until the twins wake up and need changing, it seems like you've got nothing to do." Helga said, watching the screen.

A few minutes later, Arnold sat up, looking both confused and disgusted. "What is that smell?" he suddenly asked.

"That's the smell of you suddenly having something to do." Helga replied, smiling. "Hand over the remote. You won't need that, where you're going."

"Fine." Arnold said, standing up and begrudgingly handing the device over to Helga. "Just don't choose anything girly to watch."

* * *

"Okay, what I don't understand about this Darcy guy," Arnold began, bouncing little Timothy on his knee, but still watching the TV. "…Is, why didn't he just tell what's-her-name, that he did all that stuff for her?"

"Because, girls don't like it when a guy does all that great stuff and then has to tell you about it. Plus, Lizzie already liked him. Finding her sister and Wickham was just icing on the cake. And, if he told her then, he'd look desperate." Helga said, burping Jamie over her shoulder. Helga somehow convinced Arnold that watching 'Pride and Prejudice her only guilty pleasure that would identify her as a girl) was both historical and educational. "Looking desperate is never attractive, is it? No, it's not! No, it's not!" she said, mimicking Olga's voice and looking Jamie in her tiny face. Jamie was the more rambunctious twin, and she loved people. Timothy was more reserved and quiet, but both were very friendly babies. Arnold and Helga were happy that the night so far was going smoothly, considering the fact that they were babysitting infants, who were not as easily pacified as younger children.

"It is _so _creepy when you do that." Arnold said.

"Shutup. You're just mad because you're no Darcy." Helga teased.

"And where is _your _Darcy tonight, Helga?" Arnold asked, keeping any malice from his voice. He was still unsure as to the extent of Helga's forgiveness of him. At the same time, not one hour ago, Arnold was elbow-deep in baby poo, so she had to have forgiven him a little bit. He certainly earned it.

"First of all, not funny. Secondly, I didn't think it'd be right to invite him over my sister's house, especially since she doesn't know him." Helga explained.

"But, she doesn't mind that _I'm _here?" Arnold asked.

"No, because she knows you." Helga said, not understanding why every guy she came in contact with had such a hard time grasping her logic.

"I guess that makes sense." Arnold said, laying Timothy down on his lap to adjust the baby's shirt. "So, what'd you tell him you'd be doing tonight?"

Helga turned to Arnold, looking confused. "What do mean, 'what'd I tell him'? I told him I was babysitting with you."

"You told him _I'd _be here?" Arnold asked, surprised.

"Yeah."

"Did you tell him why I was coming, and he wasn't?"

"Yeah. I told him that Olga knows/trusts you, and that it wouldn't be cool for me to bring a strange guy in her house." Helga said. She was repeating herself over and over, and something told her that it would be happening more and more as the night progressed. Somehow, as she sat, focusing on the child in her arms, Arnold found a way to throw a pillow at her head. "Ow! What was _that _for!" she said. Timothy and Jamie laughed in unison at her.

"You idiot! You don't tell your boyfriend something like that!" Arnold said.

"Why not?"

"You told him that your family wouldn't trust him, and that there's a guy-a guy with whom you're relatively close-that they do trust." Arnold explained. "Are you _trying _to put distance between the two of you?"

"No…" Helga said, thinking on his words, and realizing the sense behind them. "I guess that would explain why he was kind of mad."

"_Ya think, Pataki? _Geez, and they call _me _dense…" Arnold said. "No matter. I'm convinced that he would have grown to hate me anyway, so…"

"Derek doesn't hate you."

"Not _yet_." Arnold said.

Helga shook her head, but knew in the back of her mind that it was inevitable. Very few people were comfortable with the relationship that hey had. Even fewer people chose to embark on a quest to pursue a relationship with either of them, knowing that their closeness would be an issue. Helga reasoned that unless Derek was convinced that she and Arnold were just friends-and unless she and Arnold could manage to keep it that way- it was going to be a battle for all three of them.

"Okay, kiddies, it's bedtime for you...good thing they're already in their pajamas, right?"

"Hey, I know that Timmy and Jamie are twins, but, why are they always wearing yellow? It's kind of odd." Arnold noted.

"Well, they're twins, so Olga wanted them to match all the time, which I'm sure they'll resent her for it, in the future, when they look at their baby pictures and aren't able to identify who is who." Helga said. "But, since Jamie's a girl, and Timmy is a boy, they had to find a color that was okay for both of them. Like I said, don't try to understand Olga's logic. Kevin doesn't and he seems to be surviving pretty well." Helga said, standing and holding Jamie in one arm, and reaching out for Timothy with the other.

"Do you need a hand with that?" Arnold asked from his seat on the couch.

"Nah, they're alright once they're asleep. It's getting them to actually fall asleep that's the hard part." Helga said, arranging both babies in her arms and making her way to the stairs. Walking upstairs hesitantly, she took each step one at a time. Once she reached the second floor of the house, she walked into the nursery, decorated with ducks (the only baby-friendly animal that Olga and Kevin could agree on that was neither too masculine nor too feminine) and bright blue and yellow wallpaper. Setting them down in their separate cribs, Helga made sure they were free of toys and turned the lights off.

"Thank you for behaving." she said to them and the wriggled in their cribs, attempting to roll over in the confined space. She hoped that they'd tire themselves out and fall asleep easily. "Nightie-night." she said, leaving the room.

Walking back down the stairs, Helga was amazed that the twins were being so controllable, when in most cases they were loud and unruly and unmanageable.

As soon as her foot hit the bottom of the staircase, the identical cries from the top floor of the house made her regret speaking so soon.

* * *

"Please, go to sleep. Please, please, please…." Helga begged, leaning her back against the closed door of the twin's nursery and staring at t he cribs that contained the crying infants. She tried everything; puppet shows, dancing, even trying to 'outscream' them, but nothing worked. They were awake and intended to stay that way unless she did something fast.

"I promise in twenty years and six months, I'll take you out for your first drink and I won't even tell Mommy, just go to sleep." Obviously the lure of booze did little, because after a pause of four seconds, they started up again, each one encouraged by the cries of the other.

"Helga?" she heard from outside the door. "Are you okay in there?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah, I'm just…" Helga began. 'About to pull my hair out?!!' "I'm just settling them down." she said.

"Do you need some help?" he asked.

Helga had to smile. Even after three a half diapers (She and Arnold thought that Timmy needed a changing but it was a false alarm), he was still willing to help. "No, I'll be down in a minute."

She waited until she heard Arnold's footsteps fading before addressing the twins again. "What do want from me? What do you want?" she asked, resting her head in her hands. "You want a song? You want Auntie Helga to sing you a song?"

With her only reply being that of another howl from the children before her, Helga stood, and took a deep breath. "Okay, okay…let's think. Oh, I know…" Helga said, getting in position and pretending to salsa dance.

_"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl  
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there  
She would merengue and do the cha-cha..."_

Helga stopped abruptly, when Timmy and Jamie continued to cry. "Okay, okay, so Barry Manilow is out…How about this…"

_"I've got the simple things; I've got the rain in spring,  
Got spicy chicken wings, and French-fried onion rings"_

Helga's shoulders dropped when the two only screamed louder, if that was possible. "Come on, _onion rings_? Everyone loves onion rings." she said, leaning on Jamie's crib. "What do you want?" Helga asked again.

It was then that Jamie's cry, lessened to more of a whimper and Timothy's followed. Feeling a surge of overwhelming, and fine-tuning motherly emotion, Helga, one by one, lifted them out of their crib and lowered them onto their baby carriers, where they could sit up and look at her. Both calmed down when she placed them in the carriers, but Helga was deluded enough to believe that they wouldn't start up again if she were to place them back in their cribs again.

"Promise not to tell Mommy, okay?" Helga asked before looking around the room.

* * *

Arnold sat on the couch, and paused in his channel surfing to listen. He had just sat down again after checking on Helga. The screams continued, and at first he was concerned that something was seriously wrong. When he asked Helga through the door, she said that everything was fine.

Not being entirely convinced, Arnold made his way back downstairs and listened to see f she was making any progress. After previewing each channel, all the while listening for a respite in the wails of the children upstairs, Arnold pushed himself up and off of the couch and climbed the stairs quietly.

Once he turned the corner, he heard the quiet hum of a voice and surmised that Helga put on some soft music to lull them to sleep, and would, at any moment leave the room. As Arnold drew closer, his recognition of the voice grew until he could no longer deny that Helga was indeed singing.

Upon consideration, Arnold realized that he had only heard Helga sing a handful of times; usually it was a joke, or for the sake of the song that was stuck in her head. But he had never heard her really sing, and he probably never would.

Sitting down on the hard woof flooring and resting his back against the door across the hall, and silently listened to, yet another, hidden side of Helga Pataki.

* * *

_Oh, baby I have been here before, _

_"Oh, baby I have been here before,  
I've seen this room and I walked this floor.  
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you,  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch,  
And love is not a victory march.  
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah."  
_

Helga paused, cautious about her volume and pitch, so as not to startle them. Looking down at the infants, she saw their faces looking eager, the two of them sitting quietly and staring at her. The room was dark, and Helga had yet to turn any of the lights on, but the twins' hazel eyes sparkled when they looked at her. Smiling, she continued, hoping that Arnold hadn't heard. She wasn't sure if she could handle him hearing her sing.

_Well, there was a time when you let me know,  
what's really going on below.  
But now you never show that to me, do you.  
And remember when I moved to you, the holy dove was moving too,  
And every breath we drew was hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah,  
Hallelujah..._

Helga's voice cracked at the last stanza. It painfully reminded her of Arnold, herself, and their torn relationship. They were both making strides to mend it, but in all honesty, it was a badly patched up friendship. They both had much work to do, and that it would take more than just the two of them wanting to be friends to get back to where they were. PArt of her just wanted to rewind, knowing what she knew now, so as to avoid the situation altogether. Another part of her was thankful for the predicament, hoping that it would make them better friends in the end.

Looking again at Timothy and Jamie, Helga was glad to see that they were nodding off, if not asleep already. Scooping them out of the carriers, she placed them back in their cribs. Bidding them goodnight, Helga closed the door to the nursery behind her.

Back downstairs, Helga flipped over the side of the couch, laughing and peeked at Arnold who sat, relatively calm next to her. "Mission accomplished." she announced.

"Really? Oh, that's good." Arnold said, still turning channels too fast to notice what was on TV.

"You okay?" Helga asked, looking at his sideways.

"Mhmm." he replied.

Helga merely shook her head and advanced into the kitchen, in search for something to eat. "Are you still hungry?" she asked into the living room.

"No, that ziti pasta stuff filled me up." Arnold said, as he heard the microwave turn on. Helga didn't seem to suspect that he was upstairs for a while, and he had no intention of letting it slip.

Once her food was reheated, Helga carried it back into the living room and set it on her lap. "So…" she began, staring at the screen. "How long were you upstairs?"

Arnold's shoulders dropped as he admitted defeat. The girl was just too good. "Just a few minutes."

Helga nodded and allowed a pregnant pause to settle between them. "What'd you hear?"

"Singing?" Arnold replied, hoping he wasn't about to face Helga's wrath….again. Instead, she continued nodding and went on eating her food. "You're really good, Helga."

Helga grunted in reply, before speaking. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?" she asked. 'You're still not telling him everything. You're still holding back.' her conscious scolded.

"Why not?"

"Because when people find out that you do something, that you do it, and actually like it. They'll want you to do it for them, when and where they ask. Like an organ grinder's monkey."

"You never did get over that, did you?" Arnold asked, amused.

"That's beside the point, Arnold." Helga said, smiling. "Okay, remember that time, in 6th grade, when we took those aptitude tests, and you got Animator? And after that, everyone wanted you to draw them as a cartoon. Do you remember what happened?"

Arnold thought about the instance quietly before responding. "Yeah, after a while it got really boring, and sort of annoying."

"My point exactly. I don't want to hate something I'm not even that great at because people ask me to do it all the time. Olga already asked me to dance at our parent's anniversary party that she's planning, but I told her no. I'm no one's organ grinder monkey."

"Speaking of dancing, "Arnold began. "What did you say you had planed to save your dance company?"

"I never told you?" she asked, before launching into her explanation. Her plan was to infiltrate a major sporting event, and stage an elaborate dance routine, that would get the principal, the administration and a large amount of the student's attention regarding their plans to do away with so many clubs. "The only problem is that we have to find a huge sporting event, and get it together in just a few weeks. And we have to make sure there are alumni there, so that they'll know what's going on."

"That's a pretty big undertaking, Helga." Arnold said.

"I know, but I can't think of anything else. And if it works out, then great. If it doesn't, then we haven't wasted any of our resources." she reasoned.

"Well, what did you need my help for?"

"Well, since it's going to have to be a huge performance, I'm going to need a lot of people. And you're really good at rallying people for a cause." Helga finished with a smile.

"You want me to gather dancers for you?" Arnold asked skeptically.

"More or less."

"But I don't have to actually dance, do I?"

"What are you complaining about? I'm the one doing all the work here. And, as for dancing, you probably won't have to."

"'Probably won't have to' is not 'No'." Arnold stated.

Helga narrowed her eyes at Arnold. "You wanna know something really interesting about Jamie? She's an incredible little baby. And her favorite food is mashed peaches. In fact, if she just smells mashed peaches, she goes right to the bathroom. It's very interesting to see, Arnold."

"You are evil."

"I'm fully aware of that." Helga said, returning to her food. "It's just one of the many reasons why you love me so much."

* * *

"That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen."

"Honey! It was not dumb! It was moving!"

"Yeah, it moved me alright. It moved me right out the door." Kevin said, opening his front door and sitting his jacket on the hook by the door. "How does a _dumb _musical like that even last this long?"

"I thought it was quite entertaining." Olga said, removing her shoes, and walking into the living room.

"It was about _rats_! Rats who _sing_! Rats don't _sing_, Olga! Your sister was right; I wasted my money." Kevin said, running a hand over his face. "Sounds like the twins are asleep though."

"They're not the only ones." Olga said, whispering and waving her hand, for Kevin to come over. "Isn't it precious?"

Kevin rounded the couch and stared at the teenagers, asleep on the sofa. Arnold sat up, mostly straight, with one elbow on the armrest, and his head on the corresponding hand. Helga, however, took up most of the couch, her legs tucked close to her body and her head resting on Arnold's lap. Arnold's other hand was threaded in Helga's thick blonde hair, and Olga concluded that they could not look more perfect for each other.

Kevin, on the other hand looked slightly confused, and turned to his wife. "Are you _sure_ he's not the boyfriend?"

* * *

_Don't ask why I'm updating so quickly. I just am. I got to writing this afternoon and I couldn't stop. Plus, it's 2009! Why not update?! _

_This isn't quite a filler chapter. It's filler-esque, but not quite filler. It's a fun time chapter. Hope you had fun times with it. I love Kevin; he's one of my favorite OC's. And he's not as dumb as he seems; he just likes messing with Helga. Kevin's love for the Giants should be obvious: he likes winners. Giants=Winners. No need to debate it; we're going to win the Superbowl, end of story. And Danny Ware, by the way, is a player on the Giant's team. And if you haven't looked at my character photos (You really should….) you'll see that Kevin is Danny Ware! Hahahaha. I'm so funny. _

_Other than that, not many other references. Timmy and Jamie (the twins) were named after my dog, Timothy James. I was planning to make them both boys, but I didn't. Sue me. I referenced a ton of HA! episodes, because I love them. And there's actually a line from "Married" in this chapter. Ten points if you can find it! And the song used in the chapter is called "Hallelujah" and it's sung by Kate Voegele (well, at least the version that I like is) and it's beautiful. I love it. _

_Oh and V…you know what you contributed to this chapter. Thanks a ton, girlie!_

_I've been listening to some Randy Travis (the real life country singer who voiced Mr. Hyunh's singer voice in that episode) and every time I listen him, I imagine Mr. Hyunh singing. And whenever I type "Mr. Hyunh" I pronounce it "Heeeyyyyuuuunnn" like the host from the "Fighting Families" episode. Kind of funny._

_Feel free to correct me on my grammar, I know I probably made some mistakes, and I can never seem to catch all of them. Please and thank you!!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	22. To Dance And Smile

_**The Compromise:**_

_**Chapter 21: To Dance and Smile**_

**_"It's ah, ah, obvious,  
Right here's where the party starts,  
With you and me all alone.  
No one has to know.  
It's ah, ah, obvious to me  
How it's gonna be,  
Ah, ah, obvious  
When you come close to me..."_**

**Hey Monday**

**"Obvious"**

* * *

Helga was sitting in front of the computer in the English Department Office, entering grades, when the black phone next to her vibrated. She set an alarm for herself, giving her only a forty-five minute window to do an hour and a half's amount of work. She had to make sure that the gymnasium was free for that afternoon, and that the routine itself could accommodate the large group of people that Arnold promised to gather for her. She developed the number over the weekend (or, rather, what was left of it), and despite having a few holes in it, she was confident that it'd go over well.

Throwing a few textbooks into her duffle bag, Helga stood to walk out of the door, when someone met her there, blocking the way.

"Oh, hey." Helga said, not expecting to see Lila there. "Everything okay?"

"Sure." Lila began, bobbing her head up and down. "I just left the main office, and they said the gym is open today, so we can use it. Actually, I got it for the whole week…with a little help."

"Really? That's great." Helga said, tossing her bag back to the floor. "Now all we need to do is make sure Arnold comes through and delivers a ton of people who are willing to help out."

"Arnold's helping us out…?" Lila asked, taking a seat and trying to nonchalantly pick at her nails. The ease with which Helga mentioned him meant that the two were back on speaking terms, or at least no longer at one another's throats.

"Yeah. I told him about it on Saturday." Helga said.

"Oh, so you two are speaking again…go figure." Lila said, glancing around the room. Once her eyes rested back on Helga she found a look that read, 'How stupid do you think I am?' "What?" Lila asked innocently.

"I know what you did." Helga deadpanned. "And as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't think violence solves anything." she joked.

"Yeah, I know, but he was being so stupid! And, in case you haven't noticed, you and Arnold are, by far, the _cutest _couple since forever. I couldn't go on letting you guys hate each other." Lila reasoned out loud.

Helga rolled her eyes. It was like talking to Olga all over again. "Lila, Arnold and I aren't a couple; you know that."

"Yeah, but, you guys…I don't know. You two _go _together. It's like, you guys tried that whole "relationship" thing, and it didn't work, out, and you were both bummed, but you managed to stay good friends, and you can even be happy when the other goes and finds a significant other even if that significant other isn't you." Lila said, very quickly. She had a habit of doing so when she was excited. "He's the Brody to your Lauren."

"Whatever you say, Lila." Helga said, hoping the matter would end there. She was fully aware of what people thought of herself and Arnold. But, she resolved to put those thoughts (and hopefully the feelings that accompanied them) out of her mind. She and Arnold were friends, at least for the time being. The past week proved that the littlest thing could move them in either direction: away from each other, or closer, and back into dangerous territory.

"So how's Derek?" Lila asked, obviously not realizing the weight of her question.

"Umm…I'm not sure. I haven't spoken to him since Saturday, actually." Helga admitted.

"Why not?"

"Well, I was babysitting Olga's twins with Arnold, and he called right before I left. And when I woke up the next morning I had about 20 missed calls from him, that I couldn't take because I was looking after the kids." Helga said, now taking her turn to stare at her hands. "When I tried to call him back on Sunday, he didn't answer."

Looking up, Helga saw the shocked look on Lila's face. "What?" she asked, taken aback.

"You babysat Olga's kids? With Arnold?" Lila asked, as if inquiring of scandal.

"Yeah, what about it?" Helga replied.

"Did you guys do anything?"

Helga wrinkled her brow. "I'm not sure what you're implying, Miss Sawyer. By all means, clarify."

Lila huffed in disappointment at not being immediately understood. "Did you…"

"If you're not going to just come out and say it-"

"Did you sleep with Arnold?" Lila shouted, running her words together excitedly.

Helga wasn't shocked by the question. Even though she wasn't one to spread rumors, Lila never minded hearing one every now and again. She was pretty good at keeping things to herself. Despite the fact that Helga saw the query coming, she tried to sound shocked, so as to keep from raising any red flags in Lila's mind. "No!"

"Well why didn't you just return Derek's calls when you went home that night?" Lila asked slyly.

"Because I didn't go home that night. I stayed over Olga's since she and Kevin got home so late from that stupid musical." Helga answered expertly.

"Did Arnold go home?"

Helga cursed inwardly, angry that she fell into Lila's trap, without even seeing it coming. "No."

"Uh huh." Lila said, expecting the answer. "And where did you sleep over Olga's house?"

"I plead the fifth." Helga answered.

"You're only serving to further incriminate yourself. Answer the question, Helga."

"On the couch."

"And where did _Arnold _sleep?"

"On the couch."

"So, you two _did _sleep together…oh, what a tangled web we weave…" Lila finished, smiling.

"Lye, you know it wasn't like that." Helga said, somewhat sternly. "We fell asleep on the couch. Kevin and Olga came home, and put a blanket over us. Neither of us woke up until the next morning. That's all that happened."

"Oh…" Lila continued, smiling wickedly. "So, the two of you were positioned in such a away, that you could share a single blanket. How very interesting."

"Lila!" Helga exclaimed, ready to throw something at the girl before her.

"I'm kidding! Geez, quit being so sensitive." Lila said, clapping her hands together and laughing. "But, in all seriousness, what happened? You're being way too defensive if you two had just sat around and ate s'mores all night."

Helga briefly touched on the care of the twins, watching movies and eating leftovers. "I'm not sure, really. I woke up the next morning and…"

"And…" Lila inquired.

"And, I was leaning on him. End of story." Helga said, determined to end the conversation there.

"Well, I'm not surprised about the whole Derek thing. He's obviously feeling some apprehension now, with the threat of having to live in Arnold's shadow." Lila said.

"But I told him that Arnold and I are just friends." Helga said, feeling desperate. "He should just believe me and cut it out."

Lila merely shrugged her shoulders. "All I know, is that it's not easy coming in between a Lauren and her Brody." she said. A bright spark suddenly went off in her mind and she smiled. "If you're Lauren, and Arnold's Brody, can I be Lo? Or Audrina? No! I wanna be _Whitney_!"

"Lila…"

"But Whitney's so tall, and I'm so short. Maybe I could just be Audrina. And Phoebe can Lo."

"Lila…" Helga said again.

"But then, I'd have to find a Justin-Bobby and those aren't easy to come by-"

"Lila!" Helga shouted, finally silencing the shorter girl. "Remember what I said about when to stop speaking?"

"That I should stop before I think I've gotten too far, because, by then people will want to throw something at me?" she asked.

"Exactly."

* * *

Phoebe stared out of the window and watched the rainwater slide down the glass pane and disappear. She vaguely heard the voice beside her and scrambled to piece together the few words that she heard from him.

"I'm sorry, Gerald; I wasn't paying attention." Phoebe said, apologetically.

"It's fine; it wasn't anything important…" he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Phoebe took a moment to regard Gerald out of the corner of her eye. Traffic was relatively calm, but he kept both hands on the wheel and stared straight ahead anyway. Taking in his posture, Phoebe looked down, solemnly. She sometimes wondered if Gerald was growing bored with her. In her eyes, she was no classic beauty at all; just a "Brain" who happened to hit the jackpot in regards to friends and companions. She was aware that, for her age, she was unusual. She didn't like being the center of attention, participated in nearly every non-sports extra-curricular activity imaginable, and was closer to the Fritz-Reuter cello that her parents gave her for her 16th birthday, than she was to most people. In a nutshell, she was strange, and often wondered if it ever unnerved her (aside from the food obsession) relatively normal boyfriend.

"How's Timberly?" she asked, hiding the uncertainty in her voice. If there was no talking going on between herself and Gerald, he was either eating (such was not the case) or something was wrong. And Phoebe could always sway the conversation in a positive way when bringing up Gerald's family. He adored them, and they, in turn, adored Phoebe.

"She's as fine as can be expected. She sprained her ankle yesterday. Again."

"Again?" Phoebe asked. Hearing that Gerald's younger sister injured herself was not a surprise.

"Such is the life of a gymnast…" he said, shaking his head. "I keep telling her that she doesn't have to practice so hard, or so often. She's going to seriously hurt herself one day, if she doesn't calm down. " Gerald remarked, chidingly. "She says she's going to the Olympics someday."

"Well, I'm sure that once she gets there, she'll remember to thank her fabulous older brother for taking care of her and driving her to the emergency room." Phoebe replied, smiling.

Gerald looked over to Phoebe and smiled, reaching over to close his hand over hers. "I knew there was a reason why I kept you around…"

"You don't think that I'm boring?" she asked, being surprisingly candid for a moment.

"Boring? Of course not. Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know. Because we haven't had a _real _night out in weeks, and even now, we're going to a museum?"

"First of all, " Gerald began. "I love our nights out, no matter where we go. Secondly, I happen to think you're interesting, and funny, and yes, a little weird, but, then again, I'm the King of Pizza who rules over his subjects with a scepter of pepperoni. We're all a little strange.

"And lastly, I would not be dating you if you were boring. Plus, do you know what the sexiest sound in the world is? Your _E flat _on the cello. Makes my toes curl, every time…"

Phoebe laughed, happy to be free of her apprehension regarding Gerald's feelings. Her lapses into self-doubt respecting their relationship were usually brief and Gerald was always the one to bring her back to reality. Just then, Gerald's phone began to vibrate and he removed his hand from hers to answer it.

"Hello? Yes, Yes, I'm fine, sir, how are you?" he asked, into the mouthpiece. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Phoebe attempted to distract herself from the conversation, but found herself drawn back in by Gerald's unusual speech. Gerald never called anyone "sir", not even his own father. His entire demeanor changed, and Phoebe wondered to whom he was speaking and with such respect.

"Right now, sir? Yes, I understand, sir. Yes, thank you." Gerald sighed, audibly and hanging up the cell phone. "I'm sorry, babe, but I have to handle this."

Phoebe could tell by the way that he said 'I have to handle this', that he wasn't planning on elaborating at all. On the very seldom occasions that Gerald had to break plans with Phoebe, she never felt the need to inveigh to anyone about it; he almost always found a way to make it up to her. And as much as she wanted to see the museum's exhibition on the human body (she was sure that her excitement exceeded Gerald's and he would probably spend the majority of the time making jokes and searching out food vendors), she didn't want to impede on whatever was occupying his time.

"That's okay. Maybe some other time." Phoebe said, keeping the disappointment from her face. She continued to smile as Gerald made the left turn that took them off of the rainy highway, and back to the street, a mere four blocks from her home, and successfully ruining their evening.

* * *

"Helga, we really need to get started, it's nearly 3:30." Lila said, sympathetically. Already, most of the people that were gathered in the gym were growing impatient, having given few details as to why the were being assembled, but anxious nonetheless.

Helga shut her phone angrily and nodded to Lila letting her know that she was coming. The pair only reserved the gym until four o'clock, and with such limited time left, Helga knew that there would be no dancing going on. If her plan was to unfurl as soon as she needed it to, she; have to hustle.

"Everything okay?" Lila asked, walking her back to the group of teens, standing around, no doubt, waiting for her.

"No. My stupid boyfriend who was supposed to be here…" Helga began, "Forty-five minutes ago, won't answer his stupid phone, and now, I don't have enough time to get started on this stupid dance that's supposed to save our stupid dance company." Helga answered.

"Well…" Lila began, looking for a way to dispel Helga's anger. "Maybe something came up. And you know we weren't ready to do anything today, so maybe this'll give you some time to come up with something amazing to present tomorrow. Remember, we've got the gym for an hour and a half everyday this week." Lila reminded her.

"You're right, I wasn't ready for anything today. Regardless, he's still not off the hook." Helga said, approaching the group. "Can I have everyone's attention please?" she asked. Eyeing the crowd, she was surprised at how many people showed up. There had to be at least 50 people standing before her, and in reality, she only expected Arnold to find twenty or so, from the soon to be demolished clubs and groups who would be willing to help her. "Attention?" she asked again. Most everyone in the crowd was talking amongst themselves, and barely heard her.

"Hey! If you don't shut up right now, I'll tear off your skin, smoke it, and feed it to my tiny, pink, pig, _understand_?!" she shouted, rearing back after the multitude calmed down. Helga usually never used Strudel as a weapon with which to inflict pain, but time was money…literally. And Strudel would eat just about anything.

"Now, as some of you may have heard, the school is cutting back on some of it's clubs and organizations. I can't say which will be done away with, because I don't know. But all of us are at stake. So, I've devised a plan. We, as a whole, are going to get the administrations attentions as the biggest football game of the year." Helga announced proudly. The crowd began to whisper in and amongst themselves, but one look from Helga shut them up. No one wanted to be fed to a tiny, pink pig, after all.

"Now, we're not going to march, or riot. We're going to make our point clear, and show this administration how important these clubs are to the school. It's going to be hard, you guys. We will meet here every afternoon this week, even Friday, and practice. If, for some reason, you can't fulfill that obligation, you're welcome to leave."

"Welcome to leave what, Miss Pataki?"

Helga whirled around to find the face of a one, Mr. Mason, staring back at her, curiosity and defiance etched on his face.

"Mr. Mason,…hi." Helga said, smiling as wide as she could. For some reason, the principal did not like her (she suspected that it had something to do with her inadvertently calling his niece a "o talent brat with as much brains as a carton of ricotta cheese…" after the young girl in question criticized Helga's ability to tutor her. Helga also commented on the girl's grammar, but couldn't remember exactly the words that were exchanged.

"May I ask, what the meeting of this assemblage is for?" he asked, sternly. His salt and peppered hair was shining on to of his head and his glasses were pushed up high on the bridge of his nose.

Helga almost made a comment about ending one's sentences in prepositions, but ignored the urge to do so. "We were just…having a…workshop. For our fellow students, to learn various types of dance." she answered nervously, caught off guard.

"Is that so?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes, sir, it is." came a voice from behind Mr. Mason. His entire disposition changing.

"Why, Ms. Robbins, how nice to see you." he said. Helga nearly rolled her eyes at him. His favoritism was so obvious, that she could have sworn that he had a tattoo of Leslie somewhere on his person. _'Oh…creepy…' _she thought.

"Likewise. I see you've stumbled upon our little workshop." she said, now smiling at Helga.

"Yes, I was just telling him that we were giving an orientation to dance, as it were, introducing our fellow students to learn about different kinds of dance, and whatnot." Helga said, hurriedly.

"Well, I suppose that if Ms. Robbins is overseeing this, it's quite alright. Carry on." he said, leaving the gymnasium.

Lila breathed a sigh of relief as Helga attempted to pick her jaw up from the floor. "That was close." Lila said.

"_Close_? Lila, he put Leslie ahead of a production that she knows nothing about. Speaking of which, how _did _she happen to know about this little gathering?" Helga asked, knowing the answer in advance.

Lila grinned, and began backing away from Helga. "Well…you know that help, I said I got in reserving the gym? There she is."

Helga grumbled and let her shoulders drop, just in time for Leslie to walk into their conversation.

"So, I guess you'll be my subordinates?" she asked, with a smile.

Helga spoke up first. "Wrong again, Leslie. That was for the sake of Mason. This was my idea, and I'm executing it how I want." The two squared off momentarily, despite their differences in height, until Leslie took the slightest step backward.

"Fine. Steer this sinking ship as you please."

Helga allowed a small smile to grace her face. At least they were making progress in some capacity.

* * *

Despite his better judgment, Arnold took a detour to his car, curious to see how Helga's 'dance workshop' was faring. The group of teens that he managed to gather for her were somewhat of a hodge-podge of kids from different clubs and groups, all of which were currently endangered. Their knowledge of dance was either non-existent or laughable.

Upon arriving at the gym, Arnold found the place deserted, lights off, and no sounds coming from the nearby classrooms or locker room. Before he turned to leave, he noticed the slightly open door and the faint sound of feet against the wood flooring. Pushing the door open a little further, he could have sworn that he saw someone moving around in the darkness?

"Hello?" he asked tentatively. Most of Arnold's unusual situations were brought on by the fact that his curiosity was piqued by any and everything, and was always in need of satisfying.

"Whatever you do, don't turn on the lights."

"Helga?" Arnold asked. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing." she answered simply.

"In the dark?"

"Yes."

"You're dancing in the dark?"

"Yup."

"May I ask _why_?"

Helga began moving around in the darkness again, but Arnold couldn't tell exactly what she was doing. "Freshman year, when Mrs. Rosso had that operation on her toe, we had this nutty substitute teacher, Mrs. J. She'd have us practice our routine over and over in class, and then at the end of each day, we'd go over it one more time. In the dark.

"It was supposed to help us learn our positions. You know, where we're supposed to be in relation to everyone else on stage. Back then, all it did was make us trip over one another and crash into things." Helga said, the smile evident in her voice.

"And now?" Arnold asked, fully engulfed in the darkness of the vast room.

"I think I've run into that wall about four times." Helga said, laughing. "Can you come here for a second?"

Arnold dropped his bag by the door and followed the sound of Helga's voice. Even in the dark, he had to admit, Helga had a presence. He stood in front of her, waiting for the instruction that he knew was coming.

"I just need you to face…this way." she said, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and moving him where she wanted. He willingly complied, and became Helga's mannequin, even if just for a moment.

"Okay, and so I go…" she said to herself, out loud, moving around him. "That seems awkward…" she remarked, stopping her movements a moment later. "Hey Arnold-Arnold?" she asked, feeling that he was no longer standing where she placed him. "Arnold?"

Before she could turn and begin searching for him, she felt a shove from behind her, almost knocking her over.

"Tag!" Arnold yelled, running past a stunned Helga.

"What are you doing?!" Helga asked, half upset, half amused.

"It's called 'Tag', Helga. Ever heard of it?" Arnold said, running behind her in the darkness to 'tag' her again. In an instant, Helga began running after the sounds of Arnold's footsteps, yelling all the way.

"If I run into a wall and break my nose, chasing you, it's your fault!" she shouted, when he was just a few feet in front of her.

"If you run into a wall, chasing me, you should pay me. It's cheap rhinoplasty." he responded, turning sharply and dodging behind her. He ran to where there was a stack of plastic wrestling mats and dove behind them. In the darkness, Helga could see little, and only from the sliver of light coming in from under the closed gymnasium door, and heard Arnold's footsteps end in one corner of the large room.

Climbing uncertainly on top of the plastic mats, Helga tried to listen for where Arnold was. After a few moments, she gave up. "Alright, I surrender. You can came out now, I admit de-"

Before she could finish speaking, Helga found herself on the hard wood flooring, after being tackled from behind. In the dark, her wrestling skills were sloppy, but she managed to push Arnold off of her, without hurting either of them. Their fighting was entirely contrived; neither of them intending to inflict any harm on the other. In a few short minutes, Helga had Arnold in a weak headlock, barely containing him and her own laughter.

"Okay, okay," he pleaded. "Uncle." Helga immediately released him, throwing her hands into the air. Arnold took the opportunity and grabbed Helga around her midsection and lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder.

Suddenly, the door opened and bright, incandescent lighting filtered into the gym, something that didn't go unnoticed by Arnold or Helga. Despite this, they continued laughing, as they addressed the newest occupant of the room.

"Whoever you are, you're it!" Helga shouted above her laughter.

The lights in the gym came on, and Arnold and Helga tried to calm down from their horseplay, expecting a cantankerous, old janitor to scold them for staying after so late and fooling around.

Instead they found, with his hand on the light switch, an irate Derek, looking both stunned and infuriated.

* * *

_I think I've done it, guys. I've broken my streak of "Bad Final Sentences" in my stories. Let's hope that this becomes a habit. I've been dreaming of this ending for a while. I hope it was at least a little gasp-worthy. _

_Lady V (I keep giving you these awesome little nicknames; I hope you like them), I added, the mention of Strudel just for you…I wish our favorite little piggy could have made a guest appearance, but hopefully next chapter. _

_And, yes, expect more from Phoebe and Gerald. More than Arnold/Helga, I think, people expect them to be together. It's like…flawless romance. But, it's not going to be easy for these two. And, I have to admit this, when I wrote the Phoebe/Gerald portion, I had a little, teeny, tiny bit of vodka (which is my new favorite alcoholic beverage), so…yeah. I went back over it, and made sure none of my characters were slurring, or anything, but, if it seems a little off, blame Grey Goose. And their darn good vodka. _

_That is all, for now, my lovelies. Thank you, as always for reading. _

_-Pointy_Objects_


	23. The Whole Time

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 22: The Whole Time**

"I know what it looked like, but-"

"Yes, Helga, by all means, explain to me that what _I_ saw. I'm dying to hear this." Derek asked, skepticism and doubt lacing his voice.

Helga took in a deep breath, raising a hand to run through her hair. She knew she was in a bind the second the lights in the gymnasium came on and Derek stood staring at herself and Arnold. They fumbled away from each other and stammered something about dancing and leaving, and by some stroke of fate, Arnold escaped unscathed. She, however, made the mistake of accepting a ride home from Derek, where he was, at present, berating and interrogating her.

Trying to piece together an explanation, Helga came up dry and let her shoulders slump in defeat.

"Your silence speaks volumes…" Derek said, with less sting than his former comments. His voice held more of a melancholy tone.

"I was…and…" Helga said, quietly, before, turning sharply. "_You_! _You _were supposed to meet me at 2:45, and _you _were late! And when I called you, you didn't' even pick up." Helga exclaimed.

"I had a meeting with my coach that ran over time."

"Oh." Helga sighed, turning back in your seat. "I don't want you to be mad at me…" Helga mumbled, under her breath.

"Well, how do you expect me to react?! It'd be no different than you catching me laughing and joking, and flirting with…with…Viola!"

Helga's mouth hung open at the comparison. Staring at Derek, she spoke, now feeling a mixture of extreme anger and guilt. "Viola? You're comparing my best friend, who would never hurt anybody for any reason on the face of the earth, to your evil, conniving, snake-faced ex-girlfriend, who, need I remind you, _cheated on you with your best friend?!" _Helga usually wasn't one to bring up such pertinent information, but comparing Arnold and Viola was too much for her. She wasn't sure if the two of them were even of the same species.

"You're so quick to defend him." Derek noted.

"Because you're taking your anger at me out on him! And what does Viola have to do with anything. Why'd you even bring her up?" Helga asked, turning away, and not really expecting an answer.

"Because, we both still…never mind." Derek said, his driving becoming more aggressive, the closer he got to Helga's home.

"Would it help, if I said I was sorry?" she asked, meekly.

Derek pressed his mouth into a firm straight line and exhaled. "I could have sworn…I asked you, when we started dating, if I was getting in the middle of anything-"

"And I told you that you weren't! What do you think I was doing in there, anyway?"

"I think you were having an amazing time with your 'best friend'. Meanwhile, I'm just the idiot who thinks that he's finally got the girl." Derek said. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that when it's just us."

Helga felt her chest fall at his words. Never did she think that her relationship with Arnold would have any effect on Derek. Especially since she fixed it in her mind that they were just friends, and she made a conscious effort to show Derek how much she liked him. She briefly questioned whether she would have to truly alter her relationship with Arnold for the sake of making things with Derek work.

Helga hardly noticed that Derek pulled up to her house, until she turned and saw her front door out of the passenger side window. Instead of asking if he was going to walk her to her door (she was certain that he wouldn't), she asked, "Are you going to be at school tomorrow?"

Neither of them were quite sure why she asked that; Derek surmised that it was for the sake of not leaving the car with a bitter taste in her mouth. He nodded, keeping his eye forward as she exited the car. Walking up the her doorstep, Helga wanted to turn and say something -anything- to Derek, but this urge vanished as soon as she heard his car make an abrupt turn in her neighbor's driveway and take off down the street.

After unlocking her front door, she flung it open, and slammed it shut behind her. Stomping up the stairs, Helga hurled her bags into her room, and leapt onto the bed. Covering her face with a pillow, she screamed into the pillow, shouting an incoherent series of complaints about herself, Derek and most of the human race. Strudel sought refuge in her usual hiding place: a pile of dirty laundry.

After sixty seconds of screaming, Helga's bedroom door was thrust open. "What's going on in here?!" Miriam shouted, still in her business attire, wielding a kitchen knife in one hand.

Helga removed the pillow from her face, and sat up. "What are you going to do with that?" she asked her mother, gesturing to the knife.

"I thought there was an intruder or something…" she said, walking toward Helga and resting the utensil on a nearby dresser. "What's wrong?"

"I'm an idiot." Helga deadpanned. Miriam raised an eyebrow, and she spoke again. "Okay, hypothetical question. Let's say, you go to your high school reunion. And when you go, you meet your best friend, whom you haven't seen in years. And since it's been such a long time, your friend, naturally, wants to get together and catch up. The only thing is, your best friend is a guy.

"Now, he knows that you're married, and have kids, and all that stuff, and you don't think that he likes you, and you're pretty sure that you don't like him like that either, and all of a sudden, Dad thinks that you two are spending too much time together, and that you value this guy's opinion more than his, and even though you knew this guy before Dad was even in the picture, you kind of understand where he's coming from and why he's upset. And then, you realize that you either have to sever your friendship with this really, really, nice, great, funny friend of yours, or tell Dad to shove it and get over it, and quit being such a guy, but you're sure that he won't." Helga finished, entirely out of breath.

Miriam looked upon her daughter, now with both eyebrows high on her forehead. "Well…first of all, that's not a question. And secondly, that's certainly a unique situation, but, what I'm getting from your 'hypothetical situation', is that there are two men, who are very important to you, and you may have some trouble balancing your relationships. Am I right?" Miriam asked.

Helga wrinkled her nose and thought. Shoving aside the notion that the conversation between herself and her mother had the potential to drift into very awkward waters, she tried to answer honestly. "Kind of. I mean, I know what Derek is to me, and I'm almost certain of what Arnold is to me, but I don't think Derek knows what Arnold is to me, and although Arnold knows what Derek is to me, I don't think he cares, sometimes." Helga refused to admit that, sometimes, she wasn't sure if she cared, either.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, our relationship hasn't changed since I started dating Derek. He's around as often as he was before there was Derek; he still talks to me, and hangs out with me and…flirts with me, a little." Helga admitted. Not that she herself never initiated any sort of flirtatious behavior with Arnold, she thought, but...it was easier to pin it on him for the moment.

Miriam nodded. "And what do you do when he talks and hangs out and flirts with you?"

"I…let him?"

"That may be the problem, Helga." Seeing the confused look on her youngest child's face, she elaborated. "If I were to seek the attention and maybe flirt with a colleague or old friend of mine, then I'm sure you would understand why your father would be upset. But, if this friend were to flirt with me, then it doesn't seem as bad, because I'm not doing anything. Part of being in a relationship is kind of sensing how your significant other is going to react to the things that you do. Even if he's a really, really great guy."

"I have a feeling that you've been in this situation before…" Helga said, trying to entice her mother into tell the entire story.

Miriam shook her head and leaned forward, placing a kiss in Helga's forehead. "That's a story for another night." she said, getting up to leave the room.

"Don't forget your knife…" Helga called after her mother, who only laughed and continued down the hall. Falling forward, and resting her head on her arms, Helga stared at the floor and sighed. Abandoning her hiding spot, Strudel popped out of the pile of clothes and wobbled over to where Helga sat, placing herself in Helga's eyeshot.

"Well?" Helga asked, lifting her head a little. "What do you think I should do?" she asked the pig.

Strudel lifted her head a few times and snorted loudly.

"Really? You think that'll work?"

Walking in a circle and falling on her back, the tiny pink pig continued making guttural noises and rolling around.

"But, what if he's still mad at me?"

Standing back up, Strudel walked to the other side of the room and began pushing the objects under Helga's desk around, shuffling through papers loudly. She returned to the bed with a magazine in her mouth and dropped it in front of the bed, oinking as though the periodical meant something.

"You're right, Stroods. _They'll _know what to do. Plus, there's two of them. So, at least one of them has to be on my side, right?"

* * *

"So…_neither _of you are on my side?"

"It's not about _sides_, Hellion…"

"But, you both agree that I'm a terrible girlfriend?" Helga asked the next morning.

"You're not a _terrible _girlfriend…" Eric said, wiping the inside of a glass. It was early morning at the café, and they were barely open to customers. Only someone who knew the brothers personally (or the hours of the restaurant) even ventured to the remote area. "You're just a really, really, _really _good best friend. To Arnold."

"Then what am I to _Derek_?" she asked, exasperated. Talking to the twins was doing little to calm her nerves.

"You're…a….a…_Mike?_!"

Around the corner came Mike carrying a stack of papers, and looking utterly repulsed by them. "I don't know how you took accounting in high school." he said, dumping the mass of paper on the counter in front of them. "Numbers make my head hurt."

"Mike," Eric said, gesturing to Helga. "We have bigger things to deal with…"

Mike looked across the counter and spotted Helga. "Hellion!" he exclaimed, excitedly throwing his hands in the air. When Helga didn't react in the same way, his arms and face fell. "Uh oh. Hellion's not happy. What's wrong, Hellion? Nothing a nice, hot Bacon Bun can't fix…"

Helga's stomach turned, but the disconcerting look on her face remained. "Despite the fact that the idea of a 'Bacon Bun' is almost too exciting to pass up, I think that even one of your kitchen monstrosities wouldn't be enough to get me out of this."

"What exactly are in?" Mike asked. Beside him, Eric rolled his eyes.

"Mmm…it's complicated." Helga said, staring at the counter, having suddenly found a plain, paper napkin very interesting.

"I'll explain." Eric began. "You see, Helga's boyfriend-"

"Helga has a boyfriend?!" Mike asked.

Helga looked at him for a moment, bewildered. "Open Mike Night? They guy? With the thumb?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, I remember. Continue."

"Anyway," Eric said, moving on. "Helga's boyfriend-"

"The guy with the thumb!" Mike said, happily.

"Yes, the guy with the thumb. He thinks that Helga is getting a bit too friendly with a friend of hers, Arnold. And now, Helga doesn't know who to be loyal to."

"I know to _whom _I should be loyal, but I don't know how." Helga said, hoisting herself off of the barstool, on which she sat, and leaning back on the nearest couch, a big brown one with green embroidered pillows adorning it. "I should just do it, right? Be Arnold's friend for real; none of this "flirty-friend" business. Right?" she asked, looking for some confirmation.

"Sounds good to me." Mike said, as Eric tried desperately to organize the papers that were scattered on the counter.

Helga fell backwards on the couch, allowing her feet to stand straight up in the air. "Easier said than done…" she said to herself, before covering her face with a pillow. For a few minutes, she sat there, trying to figure out how best to be Arnold's friend and Derek's girlfriend. It wasn't a difficult feat, in and of itself. She didn't have to cut off contact, with Arnold she reasoned, but she would have to be more cautious about how she carried herself around him.

Interrupting her thoughts, Helga felt someone sit down on the couch next to her and a warm hand place itself on her thigh. Removing the pillow, she looked at the face hovering over hers and almost screamed. Before she could react, however, Mike came from around the corner, looking irate.

"Hey! Hands off the little sister! She's got a boyfriend, and I've got a frying pan!"

Helga looked up at Mike and began to laugh, remembering the sight of her mother, bursting into her room with a kitchen knife in hand. Now, she stared at Mike, holding a frying pan, dripping with a mysterious milky substance, ready to pounce. She noticed that beside her, Derek was laughing as well, obviously sensing no threat.

"You _moron_, this is Derek." she explained.

"Who's Derek?" Mike asked, his anger put away for the time being.

"My boyfriend."

Mike only continued to stare at Helga, confused.

Helga exhaled and shook her head, moving so that she was sitting upright on the sofa. "I refuse to have this conversation again." she replied. "Can you get us something to eat?"

Saluting the couple, Mike turned back toward the kitchen area, leaving Helga and Derek as the only remaining people in the small sitting area. Nervously, Helga looked at Derek, using one hand to scratch the back of her neck. "Hi." she said, tentatively.

"Hi." Derek responded, smiling. "So…what's for breakfast?"

* * *

"Are sure it's safe to be driving a car that's older than you?"

"It's not as though I have a choice. I can't give it away, and I can't afford a new car." Arnold said, sighing in Gerald's front seat. Once again, he woke up to a Packard that refused to start, and once again, he called Gerald for a ride to school. It was becoming a regular, and rather tedious habit.

"Whatever you say, man." Gerald replied, taking his time on the empty, early morning streets.

"How was that science thing you and Phoebe went to last night?" Arnold asked, hating the silence in the car. He longed for some kind of sound, even if it was just trivial conversation.

"We didn't make it."

"Why not?" Arnold asked.

"Something came up…I'll explain later." Gerald replied, letting Arnold know that the matter wasn't up for discussion. This was fine with Arnold; he didn't really care either way. "So, what were Derek and Helga fighting about last night?"

Arnold turned to face Gerald, looking shocked. "How'd you know they were fighting?"

"How'd _you _know they were fighting?" Gerald, asked, grinning at his friend.

"Because…I just do. Now, answer the question." Arnold demanded.

"Arnold, my man, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing escapes my notice." Gerald replied, pulling up to a red light, and easing into the brakes. "Plus…Phoebe accidentally sent me a text that was meant for Helga last night." Arnold shook his head at his friend's 'connections' and asked what the message said. "Not much. Just that she thought that Helga had to swallow her pride and apologize for whatever she did to Derek. I don't know the details. But, I have a feeling that _you _do." he remarked, in a sing-songy voice.

Shaking his head again, Arnold tried to explain as briefly as he could the events of the night before. "Derek kind of caught Helga and I in a…compromising position."

"A compromising position'? Where?"

"In the gym."

"_In the gym_?!" Gerald asked. "Man, have I taught you _nothing_?! The gym is too big! You need a more confined, closed off area. Like the library! Always the _library_!"

"It wasn't one of _those _compromising positions, if you can believe it, but it was enough that I momentarily feared for my life." Arnold said.

"That's a shame, Arnold. I do wonder, however, what would have happened if…"

"If…?"

"If…there were no Derek. You know, if you and Helga never had that big fight or any of that." Gerald said, thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure. Why would you wonder about that?" Arnold asked, not grasping the point of the inquiry.

"You know me, Arnold. Just…thinking." Gerald replied, reaching for the radio dial. Mind if I turn on some music?" Arnold nodded, and Gerald turned the radio on, and increased the volume. The sound of the guitar got Gerald's head moving as he nodded at Arnold briefly. "I love this song. It's a classic."

_Jesse is a friend,_

_Yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine,_

_But lately something's changed, that aint hard to define_

_Jesse's got himself a girl, _

_And I wanna make her mine_

"You know what's funny about this song?" Gerald asked, smiling a little. "The first few times you hear it, you actually feel bad for the guy singing it. But, after a while, you really can't."

"Why not?" Arnold asked.

"The guy's all mixed up. He doesn't know what he wants…"

_And she's watching him with those eyes,_

_And she's loving him with that body, _

_I just know it._

_And he's holding her in his arms_

_Late, late at night…_

_You know I wish that I had Jesse's girl_

_I wish that I had Jesse's girl._

_Where can I find a woman like that?_

"What are you talking about? He obviously wants Jesse's girl."

"Yeah, but let's take a look at the facts." Gerald began, ignoring the sigh that came from Arnold, who knew what was coming to him. "This guy is Jesse's friend. Right away, he's broken the most sacred cardinal rule, established between men for generations."

"Which is…?"

_I play along with the charade,_

_There doesn't seem to be a reason to change._

_You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute_

_I wanna tell her that I love her, _

_But the point is probably moot._

'_Cause she's watching him with those eyes,_

_And she's loving him with that body, _

_I just know it._

_And he's holding her in his arms_

_Late, late at night…_

"Article 86, Amendment 14 of the Guy's Code of Honor: never, under any circumstances do you develop 'feelings' for your bro's girl. Ever. _Ever_." Gerald said.

"Okay, I get it." Arnold replied, defensively. "But what if…maybe this guy didn't mean to start liking Jesse's girl. Maybe he and Jesse's girl were friend's before Jesse and this girl even got together, and now he just likes her."

"Alright, we'll overlook Article 86, Amendment 14 for now. Moving on…this guy, let's call him Rick, can't even get up the 'nads to talk to her! He just sits around, feeling sorry for himself and pining away!" Gerald said.

"Well, maybe Rick and Jesse already have a tumultuous friendship. Maybe Jesse even has an inkling about Rick's feelings toward his girlfriend, and will maim or kill Rick if he's so much as alone with her." Arnold combated.

_You know I wish that I had Jesse's girl_

_I wish that I had Jesse's girl._

_Where can I find a woman like that?_

_Like Jesse's girl,_

_I wish that I had Jesse's girl._

_Where can I find a woman-_

_Where can I find a woman like that?_

_And I look in the mirror all the time_

_Wondering what she don't see in me._

_I'm funny; I'm cool with the lines_

_Ain't that the way love's supposed to be?_

Gerald began to nod. "Okay, I feel ya, I feel ya. Putting that aside, let's remember why Rick even likes this girl and why he thinks he deserves her more than Jesse."

Arnold tried to think for a minute, but Gerald's reasoning was swirling about in his head. "Okay, I'm stumped. Why does Rick like her and why does he think he deserves her?"

"He likes her because she's Jesse's girl. He doesn't even address her by her name; just that title. And love is not about being funny, or 'cool with the lines'. And he asks 'where he can find a woman like that'…like she's the last pair of size 11 black and white Converses at Shoe Circus. Rick here has a bad case of longing for the forbidden fruit; he want's what he can't have."

_Tell me!_

_Where can I find a woman like that?_

_You know I wish that I had Jesse's girl_

_I wish that I had Jesse's girl._

_I want Jesse's girl._

_Where can I find a woman like that?_

_Like Jesse's girl,_

_I wish that I had Jesse's girl._

_I want Jesse's girl…_

"Well what do you expect Rick to do? If he does nothing, he's pining, if he takes action, he could ruin a perfectly good friendship, and get himself killed by a violent and impulsive Jesse…"

Gerald looked thoughtfully out of his window, as he pulled up to the school. A few students were still filtering into the school before the morning bell rang. Shrugging his shoulders, Gerald addressed his friend. "You have to decide." he said, breaking the ongoing analogy that the two fell into seamlessly. "Do you want Helga, or Derek's girl?"

* * *

"I can't believe you actually _ate _that…"

"It wasn't that bad. I used to work at the banquet hall in the Grand Marquee hotel. The cooks used to let me sample all their food, so, I'm desensitized to bad food…" Derek replied, smiling.

"No, you're just a guy, and you can't resist bacon…even if it is in a bun." Helga said, grimacing. Needless to say, she politely refused the entrée and sat quietly with a glass of orange juice.

"That too."

Helga laughed, leaning into Derek's broad shoulder and smiling as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Can we skip school today?" she asked, yawning. Derek shook his head in response.

"No, I have a Calculus test and you have to plan the takeover of the administration."

Upon hearing her idea out loud, Helga sat up straight. "I'm so excited. It's going be the biggest thing our school has ever seen…you're going to be there, right?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" Helga repeated, shocked.

"I have a game against Piedmont Institute for Modern Progression. Coach says I can't miss it." he told her.

Helga scoffed. "What does that even mean. Can you think of a more pretentious name for a school?" she asked. "Did you ever notice that the acronym for that school is PIMP?"

"Yes, you've mentioned that once or twice…" Derek replied, running a hand through Helga's hair playfully.

"I guess it'd be stupid to ask if you'd be my partner for Friday…"

"I'm sorry; trust me, you'll be able to find a partner in no time." he told her.

Helga's eyes shifted from side to side nervously. She knew the time would come for her to (as Phoebe put it so eloquently) "swallow her pride" and apologize. She knew that she was in the wrong, but she wasn't sure how exactly to get herself back in the right, so to speak. She surmised, however, that apologizing had to be on the first steps in doing so. "By the way…"

"Yes…" Derek said.

"I just wanted to tell you…" she said, drawing out the end of her statement. "…that…"

"Go ahead, you can say it." Derek said, nudging her side and smiling.

Helga huffed, and smiled in return. "This isn't easy for me, you know!"

"That's why this is so much fun."

"I'm sorry, okay? I apologize for getting too close to Arnold and making you feel like I don't value your feelings and-"

"Wait a minute, making me feel like you don't value my feelings? He asked, in a disbelieving tone.

"Because, I know that's how you feel, even if you won't admit it. Either way, I'm sorry, alright? I don't want to fight with you, I want to fight for us." Helga said, seriously.

Derek stared at her for a moment, until the two burst into spontaneous laughter. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard…"

"Well, at least you're not mad at me anymore…." Helga said, stretching. A moment or so later, Derek's phone went off; a polyphonic ringtone of a song that Helga couldn't identify, but one that was still familiar. Fishing the device from his pocket, he glanced at the screen and smiled.

"Time for school." he said, hoisting himself off of the couch.

Helga groaned, but eventually lifted herself off of the couch as well, following behind Derek. She bid goodbye to the twins, and overheard Mike mention something about how "bacon brings people together", as she left. "Hey, I have a question for you. Two, actually…"

"Go ahead."

"Umm…what was that song? On your phone?" Helga asked, somewhat nervously. She only hoped that Derek wouldn't notice her hesitation.

"It's an old song that I used to be obsessed with. It's by Rick Springfield." Helga nodded as Derek continued, all the while escorting her to her car. "You know what's funny about this song? Most people feel bad for the guy singing it, but I just feel bad for Jesse."

"Why?"

Derek shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. He's kind of got the wool pulled over his eyes about this friend, who secretly is in love with his girl."

"Always sticking up for the underdog." Helga said, removing her car keys from her pocket and unlocking the driver's side door. "For all you know, this poor girl could be oblivious to everything going on around her."

"Yeah, yeah, Derek said, brushing off the subject. Placing both hands on each side of Helga, and successfully trapping her against the door of her car, Derek leaned in close to her ear and asked a question. "So what else did you need to ask me?"

Derek's proximity coupled with her euphoria over having recently resolved the current issue with her boyfriend, kept Helga from focusing. "Oh…it was nothing." she said, simply.

"Well, if you won't ask me, then I'll just answer it myself. No, Helga, I don't mind if you choose Arnold as your dance partner."

Helga furrowed her brow. That wasn't her question exactly, but it was along those lines. Instead of pondering how he would know that, Helga simply denied it. "That wasn't my question."

"Really?"

"Really?"

"Then what was your question?"

"I forgot." Helga lied.

"Look, I don't have a problem with you and Arnold-"

"Yes you do." Helga said, interrupting. "It's fine, I wouldn't have asked him anyway. He's helping me recruit and hopefully, he'll pull a few strings and get some photographers to the game. Plus, he can't dance." Another lie.

"Really?"

"Well," Helga said, looking to the side. "He can…kind of. But, I doubt that he'd want to. Don't worry, it's all 'copasetic'." Helga finished.

"What does that mean?"

"That means that 'it's all gravy'."

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'it's all good in the proverbial hood'." Helga said, imitating Gerald. "I'll see you at school."

Before Helga could slip into her car, Derek closed his hand over one of her wrists and slid the other arm around her waist. Pulling her close to him, Derek pressed a silent, yet urgent kiss on her lips, and stepped back swiftly before Helga could respond. In return, she pouted, which earned her only an affectionate squeeze over her wrist, before Derek began walking to his own car.

Helga rolled her eyes and got into her car as well. She was convinced. With Derek's reassurance (despite how transparent it may have been), and hopefully with Arnold's cooperation. She could make this whole thing work.

She had to. For her sakes, and their's.

* * *

_Chapter 22. Good? Bad? Okay? Anyway, I enjoyed it. I get these "peaks" in my stories; the things that I really look forward to writing. The next one will be the chapter after next. Anyway, this was a peak chapter. Not sure why. I think it was Derek and Helga's argument and Gerald and Arnold's "discussion". Both were very fun to write._

_The knife this with Miriam up there is drawn from real life. I came home early from work one day, and my dad was home. I knew that he was home, but he apparently didn't know that I was. Anyway, I go into my room and start moving around or whatever, and when I go out to go to the kitchen there's my dad, standing in the hallway holding a kitchen knife. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he didn't know I was home and thought I was an intruder. Then, I asked if he was going to stab me. And you people wonder why I'm so crazy…this is the kind of life that I lead. I have no other choice._

_The song is obviously called "Jesse's Girl" b Rick Springfield. I had a friend (male) tell me that there really is some kind of code between guys that says you can't go on liking your friend's girlfriend. When I asked about details, he said that he had already divulged too much information. Boys are strange._

_I can't think of anything else to say. I have a job interview this after noon (at this point, you must be thinking, wait, Antoinette! You had a job interview the day you posted another chapter?" Yes, I did. That was way back in August. I got the job. Then they laid me off. It is now January. I need money. This is a different job. Get it straight.) Anyway, I'll be gone for the better part of the day. So, when I return from being poked and prodded and asked questions that have no relevance to the job for which I seek, it'll be nice to know that chapter 22 of The Compromise is posted._

_Hope you enjoyed!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	24. Don't Call It A Trend

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 23: Don't Call it A Trend**

_'But I can't control myself,  
You're making such a fool of me,  
Now I've decided we're just friends,  
I can't control myself,  
You're making such a fool of me,  
Now I've decided we're just friends.'_

_"I Can't Control Myself"_

_The Pigeon Detectives_

**

* * *

**

"Okay, everyone, five minute break." Helga said, clapping her hands once and heading toward the bleachers as the rest of her dancers filed out into the hallway. The group had only two days more to put together something for the game on Friday, and, despite moving along steadily, Helga wasn't sure about the outcome just yet. Arnold, who fulfilled his portion of the bargain, provided Helga with a load of recruits; students who, like her, recently found out that their clubs and organizations were wither going to downsized, or done away with altogether. The converts came from everywhere: French Honor Society, Ecology Club, Art Club, The Vegetarian Youth Association; it seemed like everyone on campus was looking for a way to get through to the administrator's, but the ideas of the Dance Company were the only ones that had a real chance of succeeding. Though delighted about the turnout, Helga was still reluctant to put her faith in this rag-tag group of her peers. Speakers of languages and eaters of celery they were, but dancers? Not so much.

"We're moving along, Pataki." Leslie said, walking toward Helga, but refusing to sit. Helga knew that even if Leslie's legs were broken under her, she'd always prefer to stand over those to whom she was speaking.

"Think they'll get it by Friday?" Lila asked, seated higher on the bleachers than Helga. All three of the girls wore similar outfits, on the off chance that Rosso (who was fed the same "dance workshop" line as principal Mason) were to pop in and inquire as to what they were doing. None of them wanted to keep her out of the loop, but they were certain that if she got a whiff of their plans, she'd try to stop it, for one reason or another. Mostly to avoid conflicts with the administration, should their plan fizzle out.

Leslie wore a pair of baggy white sweatpants, while Helga and Lila's were both a dark shade of grey, though all of them bore the name of the school on the side of the right leg. Leslie and Lila decided to wear oversized T-shirts, but Helga stood alone in an old tank top that was a size too small and a faded purple. She argued (in her mind) that it was far too hot to worry about modesty, and that she'd deal with the awkward stares and biting wind that were sure to make her regret her decision in attire.

"Without a doubt, they'll get it." Leslie said, placing her hands on her hips. "The question is, will they be able to _keep_ it?"

"Who knows…" Helga said, leaning back on the bleachers. It had been awhile since she trained herself that hard, let alone a group of thirty or so novice dancers.

"I was thinking about the second part…you know? Right after that first chorus? That should be the part where we start partnering up." Leslie said.

Helga sat up, immediately. "We're partnering up?" she asked.

"Duh, why do you think we allowed so many guys to join in?" Lila asked, already considering who in the crowd would be her dance partner.

"Diversity?" Helga offered.

"What's the big deal, Pataki?" Leslie asked, disdain dripping from her voice.

"I promised Derek I wouldn't dance-"

"With Arnold, who is not even here, let alone in the dance!" Lila said, finishing the statement for her.

"Hi Helga."

The three turned around, and any smiles that were gracing their faces fell.

"I spoke too soon." Lila said, shaking her head as Arnold approached the group. A few more students were coming back in to the stuffy gymnasium, and Arnold traded sentiments with those that he knew. While he was distracted, Lila hurled a sweater at Helga, who sat confused. Gesturing to her upper body, Lila told her to put the sweater on, and Helga quickly began fumbling it over her head. By the time she stood, the sweater was on (though backwards) and Helga was glad that she averted a possibly awkward situation.

"Hi." she said, a bit too excitedly of her taste. Helga hadn't spoken to Arnold since the gymnasium incident with Derek; certainly not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't happen to run into him since. She had a feeling that Derek's sudden desire to walk her to class and his special "alternative routes" may have had a hand in that.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything…" he said, looking around the mostly empty gym.

"No, we were just taking a break. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's great, I just wanted to drop this off." He said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded sheet of lined paper. Helga raised an eyebrow and took it, unfolding the note and scanning the page with her eyes.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Those are the names of all the photographers who will be at the game on Friday." Arnold said, beaming.

Helga looked at the sheet again. "You got us thirteen professional photographers?" se asked, looking up briefly before another name drew her eyes back to the page. "And you got Leonard Johnson?!"

"That one was hard, but yeah…" Arnold admitted, shrugging modestly.

"He's impossible to book. And he happens to be amazing! He had this show at the Onyx Art Center this summer…"

"Yeah, I know…"

"And he had this one huge print of this girl in an alley-"

"I know, Helga…" Arnold said, rubbing his neck nervously. This, of course, went unnoticed by Helga.

"And the way the light hit her face, it was like-"

"Helga, I know-"

"Yeah, but you weren't there, remember? You had a date…" Helga said, allowing her voice to drift off, as she realized why Arnold was urging her to be quiet. He had to have known in advance that the occasion was the same one in which he bought them both tickets to the sold out Art Exhibition, only to cancel and cause Helga to miss the event. Apparently, she enjoyed the attraction without him, which did nothing to repair his conscience.

Tapping her fingers on the paper, Helga looked around the gym nervously, before speaking again. "Thanks for the…photographers." she said quietly.

"It was nothing." he replied, in a similar tone.

"I don't…I don't want things to be…awkward between us." Helga said, jumping into the statement like a pool of frigid water. She was tired of tip-toeing around the issue. "I just…I want…"

"Things don't have to be awkward." Arnold offered, sounding serious. "I mean, we're…friends. Right?"

Helga nodded, smiling against herself. "Yeah. I mean, I know how I feel about you. And you know how you feel about me, right?"

"Exactly." Arnold answered quickly.

"Exactly." Helga said, sounding relieved. "It's just that Derek…you know…doesn't. I mean, he knows. He knows…things. But…like, I know, and you know, but he doesn't know. And we're in the know but he's…not. You know?"

Arnold nodded, as well. "I think so."

"Great. That's great." Helga said, exhaling, and dramatically wiping her brow.

"If you two are all done, I'd really like to get back to saving our Dance Company!" Leslie shouted from the center of the gymnasium. Most of the recruits were already back from their break and even Lila was beginning to look impatient as she strode toward Arnold and Helga.

"Thanks for…these." Helga said, holding up the list again, as she turned to walk away. Lila, who looked as though she were heading toward Helga, sidestepped her and walked right up to Arnold.

"Arnold…" Lila said, smiling. Even after many ears of "maturity", Lila never lost her ability to persuade people into doing exactly what she needed. Helga saw it coming, and only stood and shook her head, as she watched. "I think you'd be a lovely addition to your dance troupe, no?"

Helga stepped in immediately. "No." she answered for him. "Arnold has done his part, and would like to leave now. Right?" Helga finished, looking between Arnold and Lila. Arnold, on the other hand, looked between the two girls in front of him, clearly confused.

"Helga, I think that Arnold would like to join his fellow classmates in overturning our tyrannical body of administrators-"

"And I think that Arnold would like to go home now, and maybe take a nap-"

Leslie sat back and watched the two politely bicker, until she decided to interject. "Maybe you two morons should let what's-his-face decide, and we can all move on?" she suggested.

Helga stepped back and shook her head. 'Does it matter?' she thought. 'There is no way I'm letting Arnold dance in my showcase.'

* * *

"I cannot believe Arnold is dancing in my showcase." Helga said, still shaking her head in disbelief. The air outside was chilly; much colder than she anticipated, and the zippered sweatshirt she wore over her dance costume did little to keep the cold out. Next to her, Lila was bouncing her knees, either of out excitement or from the cold, and smiling widely. "Why are _you _so happy?" Helga asked.

"Because it's _here_. All our hard work and planning and _scheming_-"

"We didn't scheme anything." Helga protested.

"Well, anyway, I'm just excited." Lila said, resuming her bouncing. "Why aren't you excited? This is all your creation!"

Helga shrugged, and turned back to the field where the football game was still in progress. "I am excited. I'm just…nervous?"

"Why? Because Arnold's in it?" Lila asked. When Helga shrugged her shoulders again, she let out a visible puff of air and rolled her eyes. "Look, you promised Derek you wouldn't dance with Arnold and you're not. Even after the second chorus when we all switch partners, he's still behind you."

"I know. But, he also had a game today, so I'm not sure If he'll make it in time." Helga expressed, glancing at the time clock on the scoreboard. They had only four minutes left in the half. And after that, they'd strike. "Plus, I'm not too thrilled about where he happens to be playing."

"Where's he playing?" Lila asked.

"Piedmont Institute for Modern Progression."

Lila tried to piece together why that would bother Helga, but came up with nothing. "Okay, I don't get it. What's the big deal about that?"

"That's the school Viola goes to." Helga said simply.

Lila laughed out loud. "Viola goes to PIMP! That's hilarious!" she said, laughing louder now.

"Yeah, until she finds out that he's coming, and traps him somehow."

Lila wiped her tears away gently and patted Helga on the shoulder. "It's gonna be fine, Helga. She's got absolutely _nada _on you, and didn't you tell me that she cheated on him? He'd be a fool and a half to even consider going back to that when he has you. Trust me, okay?" Lila waited for Helga to nod before changing the subject. "So, remind me one more time how we're doing this."

Helga brightened up after Lila's reassuring words. "Okay, at the half, the score clock will read ten minutes. In the first two minutes. the principal is going to get on and say a bunch of stuff about school spirit and whatever. In the next three minutes, people will bombard the concession stands and be making their way back to their seats. That leaves us five minutes for our routine."

"But the number is only three minutes long. And how are we going to get on the field?" Lila asked.

"When the play clock is at five minutes, the lights above the stadium will go out, but the floor lights will still be on. That's our cue to head to the stage. Once we're out there, I give the signal to my 'connections' in the AV department, and…we dance." Helga said, happily.

"You have connections in AV?" Lila asked skeptically.

"More than you know…"

"_You know what I want…"_

_Helga quirked an eyebrow at her former classmate, who much to her surprise, could look her in the eye these days. She was slightly worried that he'd spend his entire life at three foot even. His bright red hair receded to a darker tone and after a few years off his retainer, he looked almost normal. Almost "Actually, I'm not sure that I do."_

"_Rosso shoots me down every year. I want to choreograph a number. A real number, not like that sorry excuse for an interlude I got last spring." he said, looking somewhat upset at the memory. _

"_You always did love the stage, Eugene." Helga said. "You know I can't guarantee anything…"_

"_I don't need to be on the stage, just put in a good word. A really, really good word, if you don't mind." he said, holding out his hand. _

"_And all you need to do is give me an awesome three minutes of sound." Helga said, taking his hand and shaking it. _

"_Deal."_

"Do you want me to tell everyone else?"

"Yeah, and hurry up, we only have two minutes until half time." Lila stood up and began walking down the bleachers, looking for the other dancers. Helga told them to scatter around so that it didn't look too suspicious. They were, inevitably the only people at the game not wearing the school colors, and would look strange if they were all sitting together.

Searching the crowds herself, Helga tried to see if Derek was there already, but her vantage point was limited. She sat on the first set of bleachers and relatively close to the bottom, so she had to turn around to see most of the other patrons of the game. She almost gave up, when someone called her name from the end of the bleachers. Helga smiled, momentarily distracted from the fear of a sword-wielding Derek against a dragon-shaped Viola, and smiled as Arnold made his way down the metal bleachers, to take Lila's seat.

"Hey." she said, almost relieved. "Glad you could make it."

"Sorry, I had a little trouble getting here. Traffic is crazy."

Helga raised her eyebrows, and thought that maybe the reason for Derek's lateness was traffic.

"Looking for someone?" Arnold asked.

"Derek had a game, so he's probably not coming." Helga said, sighing. Bending down to rummage through the duffel bag at her feet, she pulled out a plastic bag filled with slices of lemon. Offering the bag to Arnold, she shrugged when he denied it and pulled one out. Placing the entire lemon wedge in her mouth, her face contorted due to the taste, as she chewed and swallowed.

"Care to explain?"

"I eat a lemon wedge before any performance. It's gets me…I don't know, excited, or something." Helga explained, smiling.

"Interesting…" Arnold replied, nodding his head.

"Arnold! Hey!" Lila said, politely moving a few other people out of her way so that she could take a seat on Helga's other side. Turning her attention to Helga, she spoke. "I have good news and I have…not so good news. Which do you want first?"

"Let's hear the good stuff." Helga said, not really caring.

"Okay, everyone knows the cue to look for, and guess who I found!" she said, knowing that Helga wouldn't guess. "Caroline Henrietta!"

Helga gasped, while Arnold sat, unaffected. "She's here?! Are you serious?"

"I'm sorry, but who's Caroline Henrietta?"

"She's this famous dancer who graduated like, a hundred years ago, and always donates money to the school. Unfortunately, she put it in that general donation thing, so everyone gets a piece of it. If she finds out that they're trying to dismantle our dance program, she could save us!" Lila explained.

"This is amazing…" Helga said. "I don't even care what the bad news is, nothing can bring me down from that." she said.

'I would be so sure…' Lila thought. "Well, I kind of found something else…that's the bad news."

"What'd you find?" Helga asked.

"A fool and a half." Lila said, biting the nail on her index finger and pointing with the other one to the bleachers several feet away from them.

Helga wrinkled her brow in confusion and leaned to look beyond the crowds in her eyeshot.

Following Lila's finger, her jaw fell and a rush of air entered her lungs with a raspy sound, at the sight before her. Derek walked up the metal bleachers, still in his dirtied lacrosse uniform, and took a seat. Behind him, dressed to the nine was Viola. She took his hand as he helped her to her seat and she made sure to hold it for a few seconds before the two turned to look at the field.

The play clock struck zero.

The half was over.

Time to perform.

* * *

Hahahahahahahahahaha. I am so bad. This was a short chapter, but I think the ending was good. I'm proud of that ending. I had a bad cold this week, so I devoted it to writing this chapter and a little of my next project.

The next chapter will be funfunfun. Stay tuned, and as always, thanks for reading!

-Pointy_O

* * *


	25. Because It's The Only Way

_**The Compromise:**_

_**Chapter 23: Because It's the Only Way**_

* * *

"_And always remember, students, school spirit is the most contagious spirit one can hope to acquire while you attend. So take advantage of it, and spread it. Spread your school spirit."_

"If this guy says 'school spirit' one more time, I think I'm gonna hurl." Leslie said, taking a seat next to Arnold, but acknowledging none of the people whom she was seated next to. Lila was used to it, and merely raised an eyebrow at the brunette.

"Why are you so late?" she asked, leaning over Helga to address Leslie.

"I had _stuff _to do. Plus, this costume is completely whack." she remarked, smirking. "Let me guess, more of your sorry aunt's hand-me-downs?" she asked Helga. Each one of the dancers was dressed almost identically, wearing cobalt blue track jackets, with a white stripe across the torso and down the sleeves. The girls wore shorts, ones that Leslie demanded be shorter. Helga appeased her and the girl's shorts were microscopic, whereas the boy's just wore long sweatpants of the same material of the track jackets.

Leslie leaned forward a bit more when Helga continued staring forward, not opening her mouth to respond. "What's with you, Pataki?"

"She's not going to say anything. She's in her _zone_." Lila said, smiling. Regardless of what happened before a performance, Lila was confident that Helga would always dance to the best of her ability. If things were alright prior to a show, Helga was great, and when things weren't, she'd escape for a few brief minutes into her "zone", and she'd perform even better. Although she didn't like seeing Helga distressed (especially over a guy), she knew that in the end, Helga would ultimately be proud of her performance, and possibly beat Derek over the head with something blunt and heavy.

Arnold listened intently, but knew better than to speak. At present, Helga probably wasn't happy with Derek, and quite possibly the rest of the male population of the planet. In turn, he sat quietly, going over the recently taught moves in his head. Arnold wasn't sure what prompted him to take Lila up on her offer to join the rag-tag group of "dancers", but he did. Ignoring the nagging voice in his head, that, in addition to sounding a lot like Gerald, told him that the reason behind his sudden interest in this riot of sorts was sitting right next to him, Arnold looked up from his lap when the lights overhead went out. The four large lights that illuminated the stands and part of the field stayed on, but in an instant, the audience went into a frenzy. He was just thankful that no one was attempting to flee…yet.

Looking to his side, he saw Helga rise and zip up her jacket, still staring forward. Now, instead of a blank face, she wore a smirk; the kind that diabolical cartoon villains get when their plans work out exactly as they expected.

"Let's go." she said, advancing down the bleacher steps.

* * *

"What on earth is going on?"

The wrinkle over the vice principal's brow was deep and menacing, as he focused his attention on the field, which was still illuminated. The teachers that were scattered about amongst the crowds were attempting to calm people down and keep them in their seats, which was, surprisingly, working. The crowds stayed in place, but his temper continued to escalate.

"Well, what is the meaning of this?!" he fumed, turning on the faculty that was seated near him. As an administrator who had little contact with the actual student body, he hoped that some of the faculty would know what was happening. The teachers began turning on one another, while one sat quietly, nervously watching as a group of students made their way out to the field.

Mrs. Rosso held her breath, and did all that she could do from her vantage point.

She hoped for the best.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Arnold asked, latching onto Helga's arm before she could go out onto the field with the rest of the students in their troupe. The look on her face was pure determination, but Arnold knew Helga better than to judge her moods by one look. She was known to wear multiple masks at one time, and he was certain that the one under her current was not as hard.

"I'm fine. I'm ready to go." she said, pulling him toward the greenery of the football field. Stepping on the grass was exhilarating and Helga immediately left her sour mood behind, and kept her eyes away from the third set of bleachers. Nodding to Eugene, who sat high in the commentator's stand Helga anticipated the start of the music.

Once the bass took over the area of the bleachers, and reached the field, the dancers began moving in unison. Before the music started, they were all kneeling on the moist grass in two rows of about fifteen students each, and began moving slowly to a standing position. Once they all stood, they transitioned into their first formation; with girls in front of the guys, even though they wouldn't be partnering up.

I_'ve had a little bit too much _

_All of the people start to rush (Start to rush by) _

_A dizzy twister dance _

_Can't find my drink or man _

_Where are my keys, _

_I lost my phone _

Because of the level of the dancers, everyone in the Dance Company agreed that the number would be made up, primarily of sharp, consistent hand movements, and clean, smooth transitions. All three of the co-captains wanted nothing more than to wow the crowd with an impressive and stunt-filled routine, but they decided to save such theatrics for another show, in hopes that they'd be able to save the company.

_What's going on on the floor?_

_I love this record, baby, _

_But I can't see straight anymore_

_Keep it cool; what's the name of this song?_

_I can't remember, but it's alright, alright…_

At the entrance of the chorus, the girls move left, while the boys stayed in place, visually doubling the size of their squad. Bent at the waist, the troupe stood up immediately, with the dance company members hitting their back hand springs without any problems. They fell back into sync with the rest of the dancers and took their place in front of their male dance partners to begin the second portion of their dance.

* * *

Mrs. Rosso stared gleefully at the field, watching th dancers, and in particularly, her Dance Company, entertain and amaze the crowd before them. A few of her fellow teachers were enthralled as well, murmuring amongst themselves about the 'impromptu dance show'; clearly impressed with the performance, thus far.

She, and none of her colleagues, however, seemed to notice the irate vice principal, slipping stealthily from the group. Descending a few steps, he weaved his way to the control center for the field, located just under the bleachers. The power box controlled nearly every aspect of the field, except, of course, the lights over the field. He surmised that whoever threw this ridiculous excuse for a revolt together must have known this.

Reading over the labels above each individual switch, Mr. Mason smiled as he read the last one.

Without hesitation, he flipped the toggle upwards, and watched as the red light next to it beeped thrice, and then flashed green.

In less than ten seconds, the sprinklers surrounding the field would come on.

* * *

_What's going on on the floor?_

_I love this record, baby, _

_But I can't see straight anymore_

_Keep it cool; what's the name of this song?_

_I can't remember, but it's alright, alright…_

Even though Helga was partnered with a junior from the Korean Club named Evan, she still made sure to keep an eye on Arnold for most of the number. He joined the group later than anyone, and though she never doubted his athleticism or skill level, she felt herself drawn to him, more often than not. She denied (to herself at least) that she wanted Arnold to be her partner, even before she saw who Derek showed up at the game with. She couldn't explain it, but as she whipped and whirled and danced around Even, she couldn't help but imagine that he was Arnold.

_Just dance, gonna be okay _

_Da-doo-doo-doo _

_Just dance, spin that record babe _

_Da-doo-doo-doo_

_Just dance, gonna be okay _

_Duh-duh-duh-duh Dance, dance, dance _

_Ju-ju-ju-just dance_

From the left of the field, Helga heard a shriek and continued dancing, but directed her gaze to the sound of the scream. One by one, shoots of mist were coming up from the ground, starting from the far corner of the field, one by one. Each spray of water created an arch and drenched the crowd, the football players sitting along the side and, most importantly, the dancers on the field. Helga was instantly confused, and the troupe thrown into a panic. Girls were screaming and shrieking, and the boys were mostly…confused. Looking around, Helga's eyes focused on a smug looking Mr. Mason, who was calmly walking back to his seat in the faculty area of the bleachers. She had no proof, but something told her that he was entirely behind this.

The cheerleaders and football players alongside the bleachers looked upset; they, and most of the crowd seemed to be enjoying the show and were clearly impressed with the hard work that they put behind it. Before she knew what she was doing, Helga ditched Evan (most of the girls had already broken off into small groups to whine and squeal about being soaked together), and walked toward the cheerleaders, silently pleading with them. Taking their mega horn she winced at the feedback that it offered her as she shouted into it.

"Hey!" she panted into the megaphone, drawing the attention of the crowd. She was aware that she didn't really need the megaphone, she was sopping wet, in a bright blue sweat suit, dancing on the field. People were bound to stare with or without the amplifying device. "Where's your school spirit?!" she asked, dumbfounded at her own words. She expected, in an instant, for the music to deaden, and the crowd to stare at her like she was growing an extra head.

She was, however, even more surprised when the crowd let out a cry and surged forward, releasing themselves from the bleachers and flooding the field. No one seemed to care that the sprinklers were still on, or that the music could barely be heard above the yell of the crowd. Football players were shedding their armor and cheerleaders their pom-poms, all to dance on the field. Undoubtedly, the last portion of the routine would never be seen, at least not in the same venue. Regardless, as Helga watched her peers dance upon the field, she couldn't help but feel like something was accomplished that night.

After the news that certain clubs and organizations were being dismantled because of lack of funds, whereas others were flourishing, the school was divided. The kids with the proper amount of funds were not shy about reminding others, namely those who were struggling to keep their's alive, what they were lacking. Helga even saw the divide go as far as breaking up friendships, something she didn't expect. When she asked Derek if he was going to encourage his teammates to attend, he was shy to tell her that he couldn't When she asked why, his answer angered her, and she realized how far the divide happened to reach.

"_You know I can't incite the guys to help out with something like that. Plus, we have _our _money…"_

Helga shook herself out of her reverie as Lila, her dark-red/brown hair sticking to her face and back, waved her over. Helga reentered the spray of water to find her classmates having an all-out dance party, despite the mud forming beneath them.

"You should be very proud of yourself, Helga Pataki…" came a voice in her ear, the second that she found herself surrounded by the crowd. Helga whirled around in the tightly packed crowd, and smiled when she saw that it was Arnold standing over her. His wet,. Blonde hair fell over his face, and her first impulse was to reach forward and brush it away. Instead, she tucked her own hair out of her face and let an awkward grin fall into place.

"Should I really?' she asked. Before Arnold could respond, the lights over the bleachers were back on (revealing four sets of very empty seating) and the vice principal was back at his seat, with a microphone in hand.

"Will the organizers of this…_display_, report step forward immediately. Everyone else…back to the bleachers."

Helga found Lila and Leslie among the suddenly still crowd and noticed the look of worry on each of their faces. They were all thinking the same thing. Either their plan worked, or they were in deeper than they imagined.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this…this….travesty?!" Mason said, his face reddening as he addressed Helga, Lila and Leslie. The three were the only three people left on the field, wrapped in soft white towels, currently being yelled at, through a microphone by the vice principal of the school.

"You three arranged to hold up the most important game of the season- one that a number of our most prestigious alumnus-"

Helga raised her hand. "Um, excuse me, sir. I believe what you meant was 'alumni and alumnae'."

"Pardon me, young lady?"

"Well, alumnus is the singular definition for a male graduate of an institution, and a female graduate is referred to as an 'alumna'. Now, some schools prefer to use 'almuni' to refer to both their male and female graduates, while others have objected to this, since 'alumni' is technically the plural form of the masculine 'alumnus'. At the same time, these terms would preserve their Latin plurals, making-"

"Enough!" Mason said, loudly interrupting Helga's English lesson. Helga stood up a little straighter and stepped back into line. "What you girls did was nothing short of an abomination! You've thoroughly embarrassed this school, your instructors, and yourself!"

Coming up behind him was Rosso, dressed in the school colors and looking peeved. None of the girls could tell if she was upset at them or at Mr. Mason. When she tapped on his shoulder and snatched the microphone from him, their questions were answered.

"Excuse me, Vice Principal Mason, but these girls have done nothing of the sort. And I stand by that." she said, looking up at the taller, gray-haired man.

"What are you talking about? They're dancing around on a _bloody _football field!" he argued.

"It's not about where you dance, it's that you dance." Rosso said, reciting her favorite old mantra. "And besides, they've made a statement. One that this school should be proud of."

"And what statement would that be?" he asked smugly. "Inciting riots and planning ridiculous revolts?"

"Mr. Mason…" Rosso began refusing to let their difference in height give him any sort of advantage in their dispute, which was becoming rather public, due to the microphone. "If you actually spoke to the students over which you serve, you'd realize the hard work that they put into their separate clubs and organizations, and maybe then, you wouldn't be so quick to dismantle them.

In an instant chatter arose in the stands, between the adults and a few students. Most parents and 'alumni' had no idea that a large portions of the school's extracurricular were undergoing such drastic cutbacks. In response, Mr. Mason stuttered something into the microphone that Rosso held up to his mouth, while she wore a smile. If most of the school wasn't aware of what he was doing, they were now.

A woman began walking toward the dance teacher and vice principal, her age apparent by her struggled gait, but none of this took away from her class. Her face was hardened from old age, but she was thin, her dark blue dress coat wrapped tightly around her. Her white head of hair and string of pearls instantly commanded the attention of al around her.

"Breaking down a dance company? Well, we can't have that…" Caroline Henrietta said, putting a hand on the shoulder of Mrs. Rosso. "Why, Mr. Mason, I had no idea this school was having such a severe issue with donations. If that were the case, I'm sure my fellow alumni would be happy to help. At present, my funds are split between Hillwood, the school of my youth, and a school that now supports members my own family. Regardless, I intend to do something about this immediately."

Mason continued to trip over his words, looking from Mrs. Ross to Mrs. Henrietta, to the students around him and to the dancers on the field, literally feeling each pair of eyes upon him.

"Mrs. Henrietta, you must understand, we have groups that could put to use better-"

"Maybe, Mr. Mason," she began, pulling the device closer to her mouth and leaving Mrs. Rosso as little more than a mic stand. "That you should let those donating decide to where their money goes, and from there, support your clubs. It's a shame, your students have to teach you the value of diversity…" she said, scoldingly.

Mrs. Rosso, on the other hand, looked both proud and awkward, discreetly ushering the girls to the side of the field as she slipped away from the administrator and the crowds of parents that were currently descending upon him.

Once she made her way down the bleachers and approached the three wet teenagers before her, a stern look in her eyes. "I'm going to help straighten this out. You three," she said, taking a moment to look at them each, one by one. "I want you changed and in the studio. Now."

* * *

"We're screwed."

"We're not screwed, Lila." Helga said, running an already damp towel over her hair.

"Oh, yes we are. Since when does Rosso point us in the direction of the dance studio without us being in trouble?" she asked, hopping around on the cold linoleum of the locker room. One of the janitors was kind enough to unlock it and the studio for them, but only a few lights were on, casting most of the area in shadows.

"The Airhead has a point." Leslie said, already dressed and seated on a wooden bench. "If I know anything, we're all going to get a firm talking to, and probably suspended for interrupting the game."

"Hello?" Helga asked, shutting her locker. "Am I the _only_ one who thinks that tonight was a total success?"

Lila and Leslie traded looks and then turned back to Helga. In unison, they answered, "Yes."

Helga sighed. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't a total success. But we certainly got people's attention, which was the main objective, ad now more people are aware of what the administration is doing. And we just engaged 34 percent of the student population to rave and dance on the football field! That's something!"

Leslie scratched her head, the look of boredom never quite leaving her face. "Yeah, whatever."

"I see your point, Helga." Lila said, trying to sound a bit more enthusiastic. "But, we still don't know what kind of impact we made on the alum…alumi…the old people who used to go to the school. They could share the same thoughts as Mason, for all we know."

Helga shrugged, and decided that it was better to face their fate sooner rather than later. Lacing up her shoes, she exited the locker room, ready to face the wrath of her coach.

It seemed though that she would have to face the Devil first.

"Hi, Helga." Viola said, in a sickeningly high voice that Helga surmised could only come to use if one had some glass that needed to be shattered.

"Hi?" Helga said, confused as to why Viola was standing outside of her locker room, and why she was still there. The game ended not long ago, the last half seeming to whiz by, and most of the patrons were already on their way home. "What are you doing here?" she asked defensively.

"I wanted to talk to you, of course." she said, as if they were really old friends and not old rivals.

"Okay…"

"I just wanted to say that I'm totally impressed with what you did out there today. Helping all those clubs and stuff. You know, since your school is too poor to support all of them. That's so noble of you." she said, still smiling. Helga looked for a hint of sarcasm that usually came with any and everything that Viola said, but found only the corners of her mouth turned up in a very strained smile. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm having a party at my house tonight. You can invite some of your friends too."

Helga was again, taken aback. "Umm…I don't know."

"Well, think about it. See you later." she said, wiggling her fingers and turned to walk down the hall. Helga didn't miss the sly smirk hidden just behind her Ronald McDonald hair as she turned away from her. She wondered briefly why Viola would even pretend to be nice to her, but the connection was clear. Helga and Viola had never shared a stage, or dance teachers. The two didn't so much as try out for the same parts in dance competitions.

But, despite the lapse in time, they did share a boyfriend.

* * *

"Let me first start out by saying that I am very, very disappointed in you three. I specifically asked you girls to keep the termination of out Dance Company under wraps, and you couldn't even do that. Not to mention, you incited your fellow company members and a slew of other students into staging a revolt during a game attended by numerous and influential patrons of this school. I had to spend most of the game explaining to them that you girls are not clinically insane, although I'm not whether or not I believe it myself."

Rosso paced in front of Leslie, Lila and Helga, who were instructed to take a seat before her desk. Each girl looked away or at the floor; anywhere but at the disgruntled instructor before them. Rosso was not happy, and this escaped the notice of no one.

"What was hardest to convince my peers," she continued. "Was that I had no hand in arranging this routine."

Instead of a spoken response, Rosso was met with three very confused faces.

"Most people could barely believe that three girls, who supposedly hate each other, managed to rally peers for a common cause. They were thoroughly impressed. As was I." she finished, smiling.

"But you just said you were disappointed in us." Lila said, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"I am, in some respects. But, at the same time, I'm amazed that you three came together, especially despite your differences, and made such a huge impact.

"Girls, I daresay…you've saved us."

Each captain looked at each other and Rosso wide eyed, before leaping from their seats and attacking their teacher with questions.

"What'd they say?"

"How much are we getting?"

"What do you mean, 'saved'?"

Holding up her hands to quell the girlish screaming, Rosso spoke again. "You will all find out on Monday. Now, go on, have a good weekend, you deserve it."

All three girls left the dance studio in better spirits than they arrived, and anticipated the weekend ahead of them. Helga, on the other hand had one more obstacle to overcome.

And it came in the form of Derek and Viola chatting it up next to his car.

* * *

_A horrible chapter, I know, I know. Moving on…_

_Expect Chapter 25 soon. That is all._

_-Pointy_Objects_


	26. We Think To Get Ahead

_**The Compromise**_

_**Chapter 25: We Think To Get Ahead**_

**_"I know, that she knows,  
I'm not fond of asking.  
True or false, it may be,  
She's still out to get me.  
I know, that she knows,  
I'm not fond of asking.  
True or false, it may be.  
She's still out to get me,  
She's still out to get me..."_**

**_Lily Allen "Naïve"_**

_

* * *

_

Helga was expertly avoiding the subject of Viola, although she wanted to tackle it more than anything else at the moment (actually part of her just wanted to tackle Viola, but that wasn't possible at present). She knew how her inquiries would make her look; like a scared, self-conscious, insecure, bitter girlfriend. At the same time, she couldn't help feeling like she deserved an explanation. Derek arrived to the game with his ex, sat next to her and then was talking to her long after the game was over. She surmised that she wasn't crazy for feeling the way she was, but she was bound to_ go_ crazy if she didn't get some answers. Soon.

"So, how was your game?" she asked, as Derek drove. He smiled before speaking.

"It was great. I scored three goals and we won by five." he replied.

"That's awesome." Helga said, trying to sound happy. In truth, she was proud of Derek. After he broke his thumb, there was a possibility that he would have been out for the entire season. The fact that he was playing so soon after the incident was remarkable in and of itself. "I'm glad you could make it tonight."

"Me too." he said, looking at her. Helga almost forgot about her ire and smiled back. She was still amazed that Derek could, without realizing it, annoy her to no end, and at the same time, charm her. "You guys did great, even though the sprinkler came on and everything. Was that part of the plan?"

Helga shook her head. "No way. I still don't understand how that happened."

"Either way, it was a great ending." Derek said, laughing.

"I just hope we had as big an impact as Rosso says." Helga responded, taking a moment to look out the window. She surveyed the highway and felt confused as Derek took an exit that wasn't familiar to her. "Derek, where are we going?"

His pregnant pause did not go unnoticed. "Viola invited us over her house. She's having some friends over, or something."

Helga cursed inwardly. She was hoping he'd drop her off at home, or something. She then imagined what would have happened if he did. Viola would, without a doubt, call to ask where he was. He'd reply that he dropped her, his girlfriend, off, and Viola would convince him to come over anyway. One thing would lead to another, and Derek would be hanging upside down in Viola's basement, as she beat him with a piece of bright red licorice.

Or something to that effect.

"We're going to Viola's?" Helga asked deadpanned.

"Yeah, we got to talking-"

"_When_? During the game? During my performance?"

Derek knew that Helga already knew the answer and replied in stride. "I met her after my game, and I told her that I had to leave to see your performance. I guess she followed me over, because when I parked, she was there too.

"Anyway, I started thinking about it, and I think it'd be best to just let bygones be bygones. Forgive and forget, you know?"

Helga looked straight ahead, using all of her willpower to keep the shock from her face. "Derek, _you _may be able to forgive and forget with Viola, but it's not that simple for me. Everything that I know about her comes from my own experiences with her and what you've told me about her. Neither of those include anything good." she explained.

"I think that maybe the two of you just haven't _tried_ getting along." he answered.

"Derek, our _schools _are rivals." Helga said.

"So?"

"And she's my own _personal _rival."

"So?"

"And she's _your _ex-girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh'." Helga said, looking away again. "Don't you get how weird that is?"

"It can't be any weirder than me having to see Arnold on a daily basis." Derek bit back.

"Arnold's not my _ex_!" Helga shouted.

"Might as well be! You two are certainly close enough…"

"So does that mean that you and Viola are 'close'?" Helga asked, turning back to glare at Derek. _'So much for the charm,' _she told herself. "And why do all of our arguments always come back to Arnold?!"

"Because, you won't let go of him!"

"Oh yeah, and _you're _letting go of Viola Cooke by dragging _me _to her house!" Helga retorted. Sitting back as the car pulled into a long driveway, she resisted the urge to let her jaw fall slack. "Excuse me, her _mansion_."

"It's not a mansion." Derek replied. "It was her grandmother's house. She left it to Viola's dad after she passed."

"Gee, what's the history behind my little, old brownstone, oh wonderful boyfriend?" Helga asked, pushing the car door open just as the engine cut off. There were a dozen or so cars in the driveway, parked with reckless abandon and absolutely no organization. Even from the driveway, Helga could hear the raucous yells of teenagers and felt suddenly ill. House parties were not her thing, and house parties at the home of Derek's ex was definitely not.

"Let's just try to be civil. We don't even have to stay long." he said, smiling apologetically, and taking her hand as they walked up to the house. For a second, Helga let her anger wash away and resolved herself to at least try to have a decent time.

* * *

2 minutes later, Derek and Helga entered the Cooke Estates.

4 minutes after that, they were approached by the hostess herself, who had enough time to change into a sparkly green number with matching shoes, and were escorted to the dining area.

11 minutes later, Derek and Helga were offered their first drinks of the night. Derek accepted, while Helga refused and grabbed a bottle of water from a nearby cooler.

6 minutes later, Derek finished off his drink. Helga barely touched her water.

8 minutes later, Derek was (re)introduced to every person that he and Viola knew when they were a couple. Helga tagged along because she thought it was the only appropriate thing to do. She was, after all, his girlfriend. She was swiftly ignored.

1 hour, and 45 minutes later, Helga stood up against the nearest wall, watching Derek, Viola and their slew of friends mingle and laugh, as she squeezed and twisted her bottle so hard that it cracked.

"Hey-o, girlie! What's up?"

Helga turned to the right, expecting to find some drunken teen horror approaching her. What she found was Lila, bubbly as ever, leaned up against the wall with her.

"What are you doing here?"

Lila gasped. "You won't believe it! Cameron Lightcaster asked me out! I mean, sure, he's got really, really, _ridiculously_ hairy arms, but, I don't mind. He drove me, but he doesn't have a car, so..." Lila replied.

Helga eyes suspiciously the glass bottle dangling from Lila's hand. "How many have you had?"

"Only two, my dear friend." Lila said, digging in her tiny handbag and holding up her keys. "Take 'em away."

Helga shook her head and pocketed the keys. Lila was a lightweight, something almost everyone knew. "No more, understand?" she asked.

Lila brought her hand to her forehead and saluted Helga. "Ma'am, yes ma'am. I know my limits." she said, giggling. Despite her mood, Helga couldn't help but smile. Lila had that effect on people. "So, why are you standing on the wall? It's a party…"

"I can see that, Lila, but this is also Viola Cooke's party, and-"

"Wait, we're at Viola's house?" Lila asked, seriously. Helga nodded and she continued. "We should find something embarrassing and take a picture of it. Like a…collection of Wally dolls or something…"

"A fun as that sounds, I'm on a secret mission." Helga said, her eyes resting on Derek and Viola, who were standing suspiciously close together. Derek took another swig from his brown bottle. Helga admitted to herself that she lost count with how many drinks he already had.

Lila immediately beginning humming the theme song from _Mission Impossible_ and dodging, as if stealthily watching someone. "A mission? That's awesome. What's the codename, Chief?"

Helga smiled again. She'd have to remember this for when Lila was sobered up. "Codename: Derek is a Straight Up Fool."

Lila looked confused before following Helga's gaze to the living room. Shock fell over her face as she watched Derek bend over to say something directly in Viola's ear. She could almost feel the heat radiating from Helga's body.

"What on earth are you doing over _here_?!" she asked, loudly.

"This mission is strictly observational-"

"Observational, my left toe! You need to get over there, and fight for your man." Lila said.

Helga shrugged. "You know I'm not one of those girls who 'fight for their men'. I'd rather sit back and watch him make a complete fool of himself, then laugh at his expense later."

Lila huffed and placed her hands at her hip. "That's such a lie, Helga. You fought me for _Arnold_."

"I _never _fought you." Helga said. '_I most certainly wanted to, sometimes…_' she thought.

"Well, kind of. With that play back in elementary school." Lila reminded her. "You got every girl to drop out of the part and then you told me you'd strangle me with your bare hands if I told anyone why you really wanted that part."

"That's completely beside the point, Lila. I'm not going over there. It'd be embarrassing, and I'm sure Viola would just do everything in her power to make me look like an idiot." Helga said.

"But, he's-"

"End of story, Lila. I'm not going over there."

* * *

'I can't believe I'm coming over here.' Helga thought, plastering a small smile on her face (anything bigger was bound to become a scowl) and walking toward the circle of friends that happened to include her boyfriend and his ex. They were all chatting animatedly and she couldn't have felt more out of place. Instead of awkwardly tapping Derek's shoulder, Helga quietly slipped her hand around his waist and glided into the circle, between Derek and Viola. '_Killing two birds with one stone…_' she told herself.

Derek immediately turned and planted a kiss on Helga's forehead, subsequently staking his claim and causing a smile to erupt on Helga's face. She briefly ignored the smell of alcohol on his breath and concentrated on getting the both of them out of there. His arm was around her waist as well and if she could get him and Lila to the car, she might be able to get them out soon. Viola noticed, soon after, that she was no longer within groping distance of Derek, and addressed the group.

"Hey, everybody, this is Helga. She's Derek's girlfriend." she said, smiling that same smile that never quite reached her eyes. Helga didn't miss her tone at the word "girlfriend", and tucked it away for future reference. "Helga, these are my friends, Cici, Kiki, and Gigi." she said, gesturing to a trio of tall, model-esque girls of varying skin colors and features, but who all wore the same smug look of self-satisfaction. They also wore the same fake smile that Viola did.

In her mind Helga joked that locked away somewhere was another tall, lanky girl named 'LMNOPipi", who's name didn't quite make the cut.

Viola continued with her introduction. "And their boyfriends, Jake, Christian and Marcus." she said, Helga politely smiled at the boys, who, despite looking upper-crust and arrogant, were completely gorgeous. She briefly wondered if PIMP was full of models, but then disregarded the thought, remembering that Viola was a student there. Helga was slowly developing a migraine from being so close to her.

Gigi, the tallest of the girls with dark skin and tight curls of hair, spoke up. "So…_you're_ Helga. We heard about the riot you started at your school tonight." she said, excitedly.

"It wasn't a riot." Helga said, still smiling. _'What have I walked into?' _she asked herself.

"But, Viola said-" began the dark-haired, porcelain skinned beauty next to Gigi. Helga had forgotten her name already.

"What I said, was that Helga staged a…_revolt_, as it were, to raise money for her school, so that they don't terminate their clubs and extracurriculars. It was quite impressive, if I do say so myself." she replied.

"The Terminator!" one of the guys said, loudly, pumping his fist into the air. All of the guys around them high fived, and with his arm around her, Helga was jostled by the gesture. Helga looked at Derek and felt instantly saddened. _'What happened to the smart, funny, intellectual and occasionally goofy guy I was dating?' _she asked herself.

"Helga," Viola said, looking at her straight on. "Can I speak with you in the kitchen for a moment?" she asked simply.

Glancing around at Viola's friends, Helga anticipated the worst, seeing as none of them looked too excited either. She nodded to Viola and turned to Derek, granting his attention. "Derek, do you think we could leave soon? I'm feeling kind of tired." she said.

"Of course, babe. Just let me know when you're ready." he said, turning his back on her and continuing with his conversation. Helga slipped her hand from around his waist and followed Viola into the kitchen.

Once there, Viola sifted around in the cooler of ice and pulled out another beer. She held one out to Helga, who held her hand up and denied it. "I'm driving." she said, pointing her thumb at Derek, who was clearly inebriated.

Viola shrugged and began to speak. "You know, I think it'd be really great if we could all be friends. You know, the three of us?"

Helga nodded and smiled. "Well, not all of us. I mean, Derek is my _boyfriend_. We're kind of more than friends, if you know what I mean." she said, laughingly. She was, under any circumstance necessary, making sure to remind Viola that Derek was her boyfriend, and no one else's.

Viola blinked a few times, but resumed her painted-on smile. "Right. Of course." she said, taking a long swig from her can. "I mean, I think you're an amazing dancer, and I have nothing but respect for you. I don't see why we can't at least be…civil, with one another." she cooed.

Helga, on the outside looked compliant. She smiled and nodded and went along with everything that Viola said. Her palaver was not getting far with Helga. On the inside, however, she wasn't buying a word of it. She wasn't sure if it was Derek, or anything else, but she was sure that Viola was out to get something. The girl was too competitive to let something like an ex-boyfriend escape her grasp. Helga was sure of it.

This was war, and the battle lines were being drawn.

"Of course." she said, mimicking Viola.

"Besides, I'm sure Caroline Henrietta will do something to work out that whole money situation. I've known her for a very long time, and she's always been such a generous woman." Viola said, taking another sip, but looking at Helga from over the lip of her can.

"You have?"

Viola set her drink down and looked at Helga like she was a small child. "You didn't know? The family obligation she spoke about at the game…" Viola began. Helga stared at her, waiting for her to explain.

"I can't believe you didn't know. Caroline Henrietta," Viola began. "She's my great aunt."

* * *

Helga stood by the door, angry at herself, at Derek, at Viola, and quickly found Lila's number in her contact list. She listening to the dial tone and waited for her to pick up.

"Hey-Looo…?" came the voice on the other end.

"Lila, it's me. Helga."

"Oh, hey! I'm so glad you called! I found it!" she said excitedly into the phone.

"Found what?"

"Her Wally doll collection! It's massive. She should really learn to lock her doors when she had a house party-"

"That's great, Lye." Helga said, cutting her off. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just need to get a few more shots. Did you know that they made Wally sheets and pillowcases?"

"Yup. They make ribbons for your hair, and even fuzzy underwear." she said, reciting the catchy, yet consumer-driven jingle. "Hurry up and get down here. I'm trying to find Derek now, so we can leave."

"I thought Derek left already." Lila said.

"What?!"

"Yeah, I was heading up the stairs and I saw him go outside. I figured you were leaving with him." Lila said.

Helga ran a hand over her face and through her hair, clearly frustrated. '_Where are you, you moron?!_' she asked herself.

"It's fine, just get down here and we'll find him together, okay?" she said, before hanging up.

Aside from saving her dance company, Helga surmised that the night was turning out to be pretty terrible.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Miss Perfect!" Helga said, loudly opening the door to her bedroom and holding out a glass of orange juice to the recovering person in her bed.

"My head…" Lila whined, her hand lost in the mass of red-brown hair that fell over her face and back. She was dressed in one of Olga's old nightgowns and tangled in Helga's sheets. She swatted at the pink pig who was desperately trying to lick her face and wake her up. "Back pig, back."

"Hey, don't swing at Strudel. She's not the one who got wasted last night." Helga said, hoisting up the animal and placing her on the floor. She rolled onto her back and snorted up at Helga.

"I wasn't wasted." Lila said, taking a careful sip of the orange juice. She blanched at the taste, but continued drinking. "I just don't remember most of the things I said."

"You are such a lightweight." Helga said, shaking her head.

"I do remember something about a super secret mission. How'd that go?" she asked, smiling, even though she was in complete disarray.

"Mission…failed. Derek got wasted-more wasted than _you_- and left me at the party." Helga said, kneeling on the floor to rub Strudel's belly. The pig grew ecstatic at the attention and oinked whenever Helga drew her hand away.

"Shut up!" Lila said, in disbelief. "He left you? That's…that's just wrong."

"Well, I'm not sure if he left me. He wasn't there after I dragged you out of Viola's room-"

"Why was I in Viola's room?" Lila asked.

"You were taking photos of her Wally paraphernalia."

"_Wally_? Really?"

"Yup, you have about forty pictures of it on your phone." Helga explained.

"Oh. Okay." Lila said, taking a sip of orange juice. "Continue…"

"Anyway, his car wasn't outside, and I couldn't find him anywhere. He ditched me, end of story." Helga said, distracting herself again. She couldn't imagine where Derek would go, especially in his state.

"Maybe he got a ride home from someone. You did say he was pretty smashed." Lila said, trying to defend him.

"Yeah, yeah…or maybe he's a fool and a half." Helga said, in tune with the vibration of her phone. It was midday on a Saturday and Helga was looking forward to having the day free and maybe avoiding Derek for a little while. She hadn't thought of it until then, but she didn't get an opportunity to speak to Arnold after the game.

'_I wonder what he'd think about all of this…' _she though as she opened her phone to survey the message sent to her. She immediately rolled her eyes when she read the message and snapped her phone shut. "Just when I thought I'd have the day off…"

"Who was it?' Lila asked, downing the rest of her orange-concoction. Helga's mother taught her how to make it when she turned 16, and even though she never used the recipe, she was glad that it came in handy.

"My fool and a half. He wants to meet for lunch."

* * *

_Ohh, Derek. You gots some 'splainin' to do…I decided to update, because…I've been writing a lot. And the next chapter is already done, so, I figured why not. Plus, I've got the Wally theme song stuck in my head."...and he loves it when you buy his toys.."_

_These next few chapters are going to be so much fun! I'm excited. You should be too. _

_-Pointy_Objects_


	27. Meat Me in The Middle

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 26: Meet Me in The Middle**

_"It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy,  
'Cause every now and then I kick the living sh*t out of me.  
Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk?  
I didn't mean to call you that..."_

_"**My Own Worst Enemy" Lit**_

* * *

Two police officers were walking into the apartment of the crime scene, when Helga was abruptly snatched out of her novel, and her eyes covered. She had to admit that the interruption was not welcome; she bought the book several months ago, but never found herself able to get past the third chapter. As she was about o turn the page for chapter four, her eyes were shielded and a predictable "Guess who?" came from behind her.

"Umm…is it Lindsay Lohan?"

"No."

"Olympic gold medalist, Carl Lewis?"

"…No."

"How about-"

Derek eventually uncovered her eyes and rounded stood to her side. "You're just playing around; you knew it was me."

"Doi. You think I'd let just anybody cover my face while I'm reading a really good novel?" she asked, marking the place in her book and setting it down on the table. She wondered briefly why he had yet to sit down, before she noticed two things about him. The first was that he was hiding something behind his back. She hoed that it wasn't a broken limb from jumping out of the second story window at Viola's house, or something. And the second, she didn't grasp until she felt his hand run over her left cheek and his mouth close over hers.

Helga wasn't sure why, but her brain was having trouble remembering why she was mad at him, and she grew frustrated at his ability to make her forget why or how mad she was at him. Helga tried to disregard the warmth and softness of his lips, and focused on those same lips whispering something in Viola's ear that sent her into a fit of giggles. She remembered that the same soft, yet weathered hand that caressed her face, was, not twenty-four hours ago, caressing Viola's hand as he led her to the bleachers. She recalled that regardless of how charming, handsome or well-spoken of he was, Derek still had a lot of explaining to do.

When he broke away and sat down across from her, Helga smiled, happy that she was able to keep her brain in tact. Shifting her book from side to side, Helga noticed that in Derek's once hidden hand, he held a bouquet of a dozen roses, accented by white baby's breath, and wrapped in cellophane. She tried to smile a the gesture that was clearly directed toward her, but several things stood in the way. Helga was never very fond of roses. To her they were far too generic and common; it seemed like every man alive thought that every woman alive turned into a puddle of goo at the sight of them. Regardless of her feelings toward the flowers, she appreciated the thought.

"What are those?" she asked.

"These are roses." Derek said sarcastically. "A perennial flower from the genus Rosa, that contains over one hundred species and come in a variety of colors."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the lesson, but I'm very aware of that. What I'm wondering is why you have them…" she said, sitting back and crossing her arms. If thought this was going to be easy, he had another thing coming.

Derek visibly shrunk in his seat, and let his shoulders drop. "They're for you." he said quietly.

Helga nodded as he handed her the bouquet. She regarded each of the flowers as she continued speaking. "You know, my dad has a theory about roses, and what they mean."

"Really? What is it?" Derek asked.

"He says that one rose means "I Love You", six roses means "Thank You", and a dozen roses means…"I'm Sorry." she said, smiling across the table at him. "So, Derek Bailey, I'm tempted to ask, why I've received a dozen roses today…"

"Your father seems to continually have me trumped regarding dating advice." Derek said, leaning over the small, wrought-iron table. The café was nearly empty, most people leaving after the end of the breakfast rush. Lunch hadn't quite started, so Derek and Helga had the small, out door eating area to themselves.

"Bob's more or less the Donald Trump of the Pataki household. Combover included." she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Derek chuckled, but still looked cornered. He almost hoped that Helga would just accept his non-verbal apology and they could move on. "I'm sorry about what happened…last night." he said.

Helga quirked an eyebrow and waited for Derek to finish. When he sat back in his chair, she rolled her eyes again. 'I'm sorry for what happened last night?' she asked herself. 'That's not an apology!'

"Derek, you're not really apologizing for anything…" she said, trying to keep her temper under control. She was met with a look of confusion and guilt, before the realization hit her. It caused a smile to appear on her face, but it was not welcome. She smiled because she figured out Derek's 'game', and was surprised that she almost fell for it.

"I know what's going on. You know that you did _something _wrong last night, but you were too plastered to remember what exactly it was. So you came here today to 'apologize' for the whole night in general, just so you could cover all bases, thinking that I'd accept it and we could move on, am I correct?" she asked, crossing her arms.

She didn't need a response from him to continue. "You know, Derek, you are a really good photographer, and a great dancer, and a really, _really _awesome kisser," she began. "But as for apologizing…you kind of suck at it. Just so you know." she finished, balancing her chin on her hands.

"Yeah, I guess I do." he said, quietly.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" Helga asked, exasperated. She was willing to bet that she'd leave this lunch more tired than when she arrived.

"Derek wrinkled his brow and looked around at the street corner. "I remember going to the party with you. And having a few drinks. And…that's all." he finished quickly.

"You had a _number _of drinks, Derek." Helga said seriously. "I actually lost count at some point." Helga grew quiet, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to find ways to occupy her fidgeting hands. "I don't like it when you drink."

Derek sat up straight, looking confused at his girlfriend. "You make it sound like I'm some violent drunk, or something!" he shouted, defensively.

"Well you're certainly not yourself! High-fiving a bunch of morons and laughing with them and acting so strangely…it's like you were a different person. And let's not forget the fact that you spent the majority of the night with _Viola_, and only spoke to me for a grand total of six minutes before you left me. _Alone_. At your _ex-girlfriend's _party!' she shouted back.

"What are you talking about, 'I left you'? I didn't go anywhere." he said.

"Yes you did. I asked you if we could leave, then Viola took me into the kitchen and started spouting some nonsense about how we should all be friends, and then I came out to find you, but you were gone. Lila and I looked everywhere, and we couldn't find you. Plus, I didn't see your car when I went outside." she explained.

Derek scratched the back of his head, and winced. "Oh, right. Yeah, you're right. I forgot. One of the guys, uh…Christian, or something. He drove me home. I was completely out of it."

Helga didn't ignore the voice in the back of her head telling her that something wasn't quite right about Derek's explanation. She decided to address it later (a plan that had yet to work in her favor, but she was too tired to argue anymore) and moved on. Derek, however, had yet to do so, in more ways than one.

"What did you say about you and Viola wanting to be friends?" he asked, sounding unusually eager.

"Incorrect. _Viola _wants the three of us to be friends. I don't get why." she said, resting her hand on her fist. Any clemency that Derek was feeling, obviously was not shared by Helga.

Derek sighed, and Helga sensed that she was in for a lecture. "Hey, people change. Maybe she's reforming her ways, and trying to become a better person. Like Michael Vick…or that guy from 'The Partridge Family'."

"Danny Bonaduce?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think."

"Regardless, I don't think that's going to work out. Especially now, with whatever Caroline Henrietta is planning, I strongly doubt that any friendship we forge is going to be anything but transient." she sighed. "I am glad that the performance is over. It was stressing me out for weeks."

Derek nodded, knowingly. Even if he wasn't entirely forgiven, or out of the clear, he could understand why Helga was feeling stressed. "You should take a break. Some of the Lacrosse guys were thinking about heading up to Whiteridge next weekend. Spend a few nights up there."

Helga was both excited and nervous about the prospect. She definitely needed a respite from her life, thus far. She felt as though she was always moving; always going somewhere with no opportunity to stop and rest. And as soon as one thing was done, something bigger and more challenging was there to replace it. Plus, she hadn't been to the mountains in over two years. She, Phoebe Arnold and Gerald would go up in the winter for a few days at a time, and took part in the skiing and snowboarding that the resort offered. At the same time, she was apprehensive about going with Derek. She had never been anywhere alone with him; at least not in that capacity, and was unsure of what would happen if she decided to go. She knew most of his friends from Lacrosse, but she wasn't particularly close to any of them. What if they tried to pressure Derek to go further with her than she wanted? What if he _did_?

Helga tried to erase those fears by remembering that she had spent the night with Arnold on multiple occasions, and on one of those, they went so far as to share a bed. She surmised that if she could share a room, and even a bed with Arnold, who was not her boyfriend than she could spend a few nights in a resort with Derek.

"I'll think about it." she said, pushing the doubts to the back of her mind.

* * *

Phoebe finished loading her cello, large backpack and various other books into the trunk of the car, and closed it, clearly exhausted. Rounding the car, she climbed in the front seat and slumped as the car sped off.

"Thanks for picking me up. Of all the places for my engine to die…" she said, tiredly. She watched her tiny, white Jetta disappear behind her and hoped that the tow truck was on it's way, as promised.

"It's no problem, babe. That's what I'm here." Gerald said, smiling. "How was the tutoring?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and looked even more exhausted. "It was insufferable. I've done everything; I use incentives, stickers on their fingerboards…at one point, I placed little Jeffy's finger right on the string. It doesn't matter what I do, he cannot hit an B sharp."

"Don't get yourself too down about it." he said, reassuringly, resting his hand on her thigh as he drove.

"Umm…Gerald?" Phoebe said. She was trying to relax but something other than an entirely untalented cello student was bothering her. "May I ask you a…strange question?"

Gerald was aware of what the question would be, but tried not to tense up under Phoebe's scrutiny. It was the only drawback of dating a really, really smart girl. It was hard to hide anything from her. She was far too perceptive.

"Sure." he said.

"Why do you have eight bags of cement in the backseat of your car?" she asked, remaining calm.

Gerald took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. There was no way for him to lie to Phoebe; it was, not only one of the things he vowed never to do to her, but, she wouldn't have believed him anyway. "I can't tell you." he stated simply.

"You can't tell me why you have eight bags of cement in your backseat?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of…I just can't explain it. Not right now."

Phoebe just sat back in her seat again, tapping her foot as she usually did when something was weighing heavily on her mind. She wanted to ask him why exactly he couldn't tell her. Or when he would be able to tell her. It seemed that as of late, Gerald had more secrets than usual, and Phoebe felt strangely out of the loop. Much to her surprise, no one else really knew anything about it, or so much as saw Gerald's behavior as unusual.

She felt alone in her battle, and could not think of a way to resolve it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked quietly, changing the subject. Phoebe just shrugged as Gerald ignited his turn signal. The café with the outdoor eatery seemed like a good idea.

* * *

"I'm stuffed."

Helga looked across the table with better spirits, especially since Derek announced that he was sorry for leaving her (something she still wasn't sure that he actually did) and he agreed to pay for her lunch. She neglected to eat dinner that night, or breakfast the following morning, so the late meal was the first she had in several hours. Derek was satisfied with a burger, but Helga needed a large order of fries and a milkshake to wash it down. At present, she was eyeing the brightly colored dessert advertisement in the center of the table.

Derek was calling for the check, when Helga, who was tapping nervously on the sidewalk with her toe, stood and began walking inside.

"Where are you going? I was just about to get the check." Derek said, gesturing to show his confusion. Behind him, their waitress was advancing toward him. Her dark brown ponytail bounced behind her and she held the black check-holder in her hand.

"I was just going to run in and get a slice of chocolate cake to take home. Don't worry, I can pay for it." she said, as the waitress reached the table.

Sensing that she steeped into a potentially awkward situation, she smiled and asked if the couple needed anything else. Helga and Derek answered with a "No" in unison, but Derek's held more bite than did Helga's. The waitress Juliette took in stride, not so much as wincing when Derek gave his answer.

"Hey!" Helga said, walking back toward the table. "Don't be rude to her; she didn't do anything!"

"It's alright-" Juliette began.

"I wasn't being rude. And why are you going inside to get more food? We just ate!" he asked.

"I can come back if-" the waitress began again, only to get cut off.

"I told you." Helga began. "I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. And, maybe if you'd taken me out to dinner instead of to your _ex-girlfriend's_ house last night, I wouldn't be so hungry." Helga snapped.

"Maybe I should just leave-"

"Again with the Viola thing; I already apologized! What more do you want?" Derek asked. "And in case you haven't noticed, we go out to eat _all the time_. That's probably why you're getting so-" he began, stopping himself with wide eyes.

Helga, too stared at him, shocked at what was about to come out of his mouth. "Why I'm getting so what, Derek?" she asked, clenching her fist out of habit. Old Betsy hadn't had much action in a while, and could use the warm-up.

"Don't worry about it." he said, angrily.

"Too late for that, Bucko! What were you saying?!"

"It's just that, lately…you're getting a little bit…_bigger_."

Juliette gasped loudly and dropped her pen, their check and a slew of straws that she was holding, to cover her mouth. Her green eyes darted between Derek, who looked guiltier than a child with his hand in a cookie jar, and Helga, who looked like she wanted throw a cookie jar at him.

"Bigger?" Helga said, repeating him.

"Nevermind." Derek interjected quickly. "Just pretend that I didn't say that…"

"Pretend that you didn't say that?!" Helga asked, parroting Derek's words.

"I _didn't _say that. I mean, I didn't-"

"Oh, yes you did. You _definitely _said that." Helga turned to the waitress who was still covering her mouth and looking shocked. "Am I crazy? Didn't he just say that I was getting bigger?"

Juliette slowly lowered her hand, still looking between the two teens before her. She finally looked at Derek and nodded. "Yeah, you _totally _said that."

"See?"

"Look, it was an accident." Derek said, as Helga snatched her back from under the table to leave.

Fishing out her wallet, she turned to the waitress again and smiled. Handing her a ten dollar bill, she spoke, "This is your tip. Thanks for everything." With that, she whirled away from Derek and strode down the street and turned the corner to find her car.

Derek flopped back down in the seat and covered his face in his hands. The waitress, still shaken from the encounter, stood and smiled down at Derek, having retrieved her fallen objects from the ground.

"Can I _help_ you?" Derek asked, obviously peeved.

"Don't cop an attitude with me, _mister_. You've still got a bill to pay." she said, resting the black leather holder on the table. Derek fished inside his wallet and handed her a few crisp bills.

"Keep the change." he told her.

"Sweet, double tips." she said, pocketing the extra money.

Derek sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. The fights with Helga were getting old and fast. "I'm screwed, aren't I?" he asked the waitress who was about to walk away.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Without a doubt. My husband even knows better than to say _that _to me." she commented. Derek almost asked her why her husband would have reason to say so. Juliette was thin and somewhat short. She looked too young to even be married. He almost asked her age, but then remembered what his mom told him about The Three Cardinal Questions You Never Ask a Woman: her weight, her age and whether or not she's on her cycle. He really didn't need to strike out again. "But, yeah, you're totally screwed. _Completely_. I foresee her not speaking to you for…upwards of a week. Maybe more." she said, taking a deep breath.

Before Derek could politely (or as politely as he knew how, in his current mood) to tell Juliette to please leave, Phoebe rounded the street corner, dragging Gerald behind here. Where as she looked completely frazzled, Gerald just looked bored and tired.

"Derek, what happened? Helga just stormed past us, muttering something entirely incoherent, and when we asked what was wrong, she just pointed in your direction." Phoebe said, looking worried. "Did something happen?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh, can I tell them, please?" Juliette said, slipping her notepad into one of her apron pockets, and raised her other hand, as if she were in class. Derek waved her off, as she began her speech. "Okay, so this is what happened. I'm Juliette, by the way. I work here. Nice to meet you." she said, pausing to shake Gerald and Phoebe's hands. "Anyway, this guy…him. Yeah, he and the other girl…Helga, right? Yeah, he and Helga were eating lunch, and then as I came to get the check, he…what's your name?" she asked, turning to Derek.

"He's Derek. I'm Phoebe and this is my boyfriend, Gerald." Phoebe told her, having calmed down a bit.

"Cool. Anyway, Derek was like, 'Why are you going inside?", and she goes, 'I wanted some chocolate cake' and he's all, 'We just ate!' and frankly, Darius, you totally should have let her have some chocolate cake, because I just had some, and it is divine-"

"Juliette…"

"I mean really, they have this frosting-"

"Jul-"

"And there are chocolate chips in it, and-"

"Can you just carry on?" Gerald asked, exasperated.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Anyway, Helga said that she hadn't eaten since yesterday, and that Damien should have taken her out to dinner instead of to his ex-girlfriend's house-"

"_You took her to Viola's house?!"_ Phoebe and Gerald asked in unison. Phoebe's reaction was clearly more shocked, but even Gerald didn't think that Derek would try testing Helga that much. He was surprised that they didn't find Derek beaten to a bloody pulp by now.

"What is wrong with you, man?" Gerald asked, stepping forward. "Never mix the past and the present. Ever."

"Viola was having a party…"

"That doesn't mean you have to go." Juliette said, matter-of-factly. "Anyway, moving on. Damon says, in response, 'We go out to dinner all the time, that's probably why you're so…' and then he stopped, but we both knew what was going on. So, they go back and forth and back and forth, and eventually he says, 'lately, you've been getting kind of fat.'"

Gerald and Phoebe both let their jaws fall slack as they stared at Derek.

"I know." Juliette said, nodding. "That was my reaction too."

Derek sat up, angrily and looked between the three people staring at him. "Hey! I didn't say, she was _fat_, okay?"

"You said she was getting _bigger_."

"That's not the same."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not." Derek argued back.

"Regardless, you don't ever say that to a girl. And it's not that those are the _Words You Couldn't Say, _they're the words you _shouldn't_ say, …unless you have a death wish. Where's the rock you've been living under?" Juliette asked, the freckles on her nose dancing as she spoke. She turned to look at Gerald, who was shaking his head and Phoebe, who looked like she was still reeling from shock. "I mean, you, you'd never say that to Phoebe, would you?"

"I don't think Phoebe's fat. I think she's perfect." Gerald said, tightening the hold he had on Phoebe's hand.

Juliette just swooned. Something told Gerald and Phoebe that this woman spent a lot of time reading romantic stories on the Internet. She probably wrote a few herself. "That was adorable." she said. "See? You're supposed to say nice things like that, Dojo. Not mean things about how your girlfriend looks."

"_Derek_!" he shouted, banging on the wrought-iron table, at which he still sat, only to send a wave of pain through his hand. "My name is _Derek _and I didn't say she was _fat_. If it weren't for _Arn_…never mind. I'll see you guys at school." he said, snatching his coat from the back of his chair and leaving in the opposite direction that Helga left in a few minutes ago.

"You don't think-", Phoebe began, looking at Gerald, once Derek was clearly out of earshot.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Gerald answered.

"But, they're just friends-"

"So it seems." Gerald said, ending his whispered conversation with Phoebe when he notice that they still had an audience. Neither of them were sure from where Juliette obtained two menus, but she stood holing them, eager to have the saga finish before her eyes.

"What can I get you two?" she asked cheerfully.

* * *

_A/N: Haha. Enjoy that. Don't worry, this is not the last we've seen of Derek's stupidity. Or Helga's ranting. And Arnold?! I know, I miss him too. It only gets better from here. G'day, loves!_

_-Pointy_Objects_

_P.S. Juliette knows who she is. Sorry I couldn't mention your husband's PJ's. Maybe next time._


	28. Break

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 27: Break**

_"It's complicated… _

_this time, I think it could be,  
Triangulated, _

_It could be just what we need...  
So what you say: we give it up and walk away?  
Nothing to salvage, anyway."_

**"Loose Ends"**

**Imogen Heap**

* * *

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing's wrong. It looks like _something's _wrong."

"Well…_you're _wrong."

"Or maybe _you're _wrong, and something really _is _wrong. Which would make me right! Is that it? Are you upset because I'm right?!"

"Derek, will you just go away?!" Helga said, hurling a hanger at the dark-haired boy in front of her, but missing his head by a foot.

"I see what the problem is…" Robbie said, sitting down on the floor across from Helga. The two were, as usual, the only workers in the store, among the scant customers and used their work time to chat. Helga, however was less vocal than usual, something her cousin wasn't used to, and immediately took notice of. "This is about Derek." he stated simply.

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, clearing the cash register area of all debris. There were a dozen or so hangers, food wrappers and scraps of paper littering the counter top. She sat on the floor aimlessly, attempting to organize the mess.

"Derek. The second you get upset, that's the first name you call out. So tell me what happened." he said, looking at her seriously.

"Nothing happened." Helga lied.

"I think I already know what happened." he said, leaning back and stretching, non chalantly. "He got you knocked up, but you want to keep the baby. So, now, you're planning to run off and live on your own without him, raising your child on your own quick wit and the kindness of others. Like the Gilmore Girls." Robbie said, keeping a straight face. "I loved that show…"

Helga proceeded to dump a box full of unused ribbons over Robbie's head and look at him questioningly. She knew that he wasn't serious; if by some chance she were to actually get pregnant, his reaction would lean more toward "hysterical" and "dramatic" than casual.

"No, you idiot. I'm not pregnant." she said, running her hands over the counter top. "I asked Derek to meet me here tonight."

"Why?" Robbie asked, pulling a bright green and blue ribbon from the front of his shirt. "Did something happen? I'm being serious now, Helga."

"It's a number of things actually. It came to a head the other day when he brought me roses to apologize for leaving me at his ex-girlfriends party, and a slew of other things he wasn't even aware that he did, only to finish the date off by bringing my expanding waistline to my attention." Helga remarked.

"What?" Robbie asked, in disbelief. "He called you 'fat'? No one's allowed to call you 'fat' except me!"

"I'll be sure to let him know that he's infringing upon your territory." Helga deadpanned, smiling.

"Now, what's this about his ex-girlfriend? Why were you at her party?"

"It's a long story-"

The bell over the door chimed, signaling that another customer entered the store. Both cousins sat behind the register, hidden completely from view, in hopes that the newcomer would glance around and start browsing on their own. Miss Gee was always telling them about the importance of customer service, but they were both aware that sometimes, people just wanted to shop and look around without being talked to. That realization and the fact that their eccentric aunt was always off doing something during their work time, kept them from trying too hard in the "customer service" division.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" a voice asked, and both Robbie and Helga groaned at having to end their conversation to potentially help some 'ballet mom' find the right shade of pink tights for a child that would inevitably grow out of them in four to six months.

"One minute, ma'am, we're just waiting for my cousin's idiot boyfriend to show up so I can throw him from a tree with a rope around his neck."

Helga sat wide eyed at her cousin before she reached for something to strike him with. Miss Gee would forgive bad customer service, but Helga had a feeling that death threats wouldn't be taken as lightly, even if they weren't directed at the customer.

"Can this idiot redeem himself by providing his own rope?" asked the voice, causing Robbie to furrow his brow and turn to look over the register at the customer.

Robbie's face immediately fell once he saw who was standing before him. Curling his lip, he said, in a disgusted voice, "Oh. It's _you_." Turning to sit back down, facing Helga he straightened up his face, but still looked upset. "It's the idiot." he announced.

"Thanks. I'm kind of aware of that now." Helga said, before sighing, tiredly. She scratched her arm nervously, gathering her thoughts before she stood up.

"So, I was thinking, you know those discounted tights?" Robbie asked.

"Yeah?"

"They'd make a great rope…"

"Robbie!"

"Nice, and thick too. Just saying." he said, before standing up and offering his hand to Helga. "Come on, you lazy oaf. Time to rip the boyfriend a new one."

* * *

Closing her eyes, Helga weaved in between the racks of the store, looking for a secluded place to talk, trying not to think about what she'd say to Derek. Monday was a teacher conference, so school was closed, making it that much easier for her to avoid Derek, and she managed to get to all of her classes without seeing him at all. After school however, she found a note taped to her locker, letting her know that he'd be at the game and that he wanted to talk to her.

In truth, she didn't want to talk to him because she was not yet able to arrange her thoughts. For the remainder of the weekend, she contemplated ending the relationship, and came up with a number of reasons why the action was called for. Derek was changing, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but her sudden recognition of it unnerved her. Was she merely blinded by the prospect of someone liking her, so much so that she ignored his vices? Was she looking for a replacement for Arnold, who, only a few days before declared her his "friend"? After confirming that neither of these were true, she assured herself that she was an intelligent, witty young woman who deserved better. If Derek had some…_thing _for Viola, then that was on him. If he wanted to be dragged along by some scheming, duplicitous harpy, then she'd let him.

On the same note, against her better judgment, Helga had grown close to Derek, something she could not deny. He was funny and charming, and smart, and she admired him. She loved how he talked about his mother and cousin, as if they were the most important people in the world. She sympathized with him when he told her about his parents' divorce; about how he used to visit his father regularly, but stopped, and thought about starting up again. She wanted to be the person that he turned to after losing a big game, or when he was happy. She wanted to be there for him, but she was uncertain whether or not he could be there for her.

Once the two arrived in a row made entirely of vintage leotards, Helga turned on her heel, arms crossed and stared at Derek. She raised her eyebrows, silently asking if Derek had anything to say before she began her own tirade.

"I'm glad you asked me to come by." he began. "I really wanted to talk."

Helga was glad too. She felt a little better about the situation; he came bearing no overrated bouquets, or fake apologies. This would be easier than she anticipated,

"To be perfectly honest, I don't think that's the best way for you to go. Because every time you 'talk', you tend to dig yourself deeper into this hole. So, for a change, I'm going to talk first, and then you can say whatever you need to. That okay?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "First of all, I don't care about what happened on Saturday. Whether it was a brief lapse of judgment, or too much sun, or your own stupidity, I don't care. It doesn't matter, okay? So no use trying to put together an apology for that.

"Secondly, I understand if you want to be 'friends' with Viola. Actually, I don't understand, seeing as she cheated on you, and referred to you as 'her leftovers'. But whatever, it's not my business. Be her friend. But, don't try to force me to be her friend. It's not going to happen. Not now, not ever. And don't try to make me feel like a bad person because I don't want to be her friend. It's my choice to make and you have no right scrutinizing it, the same way I don't have any choice scrutinizing your twisted friendship with her. And as long as we're talking about friendships, I don't want to hear another word about mine with Arnold. You knew what he was to me when we started dating, so I don't want to hear any bull about you thinking that I'm cheating or whatever. I could have gone to him this weekend about what a complete twit you were being, but I didn't. Take it as a compliment.

"Now, if you have anything to say in response, I'd like to hear it." she said, taking a deep breath and calming herself down.

Derek stared down at Helga, his mouth opening, as if he had something to say. He tried gesturing to compensate for his lacks of words, but stopped, letting his arms fall to his side. "I forgot everything I was going to say."

Helga nodded and looked around awkwardly. "Okay…" she said, slowly. "How about we take this one subject at a time?" she asked, as Derek nodded. 'I sure know how to pick the smart ones…' Helga said. "Great. First…Saturday?"

"Oh right." he said. "You know I didn't mean it like that, right? I was just…I was upset, and It came out all wrong. I'm really sorry." he said, sounding sincere. Helga knew better than to let that be the end.

"Derek, I frankly don't care what you think of my body. It's not an issue with me. Under no circumstances are you forgiven for what you said, but that's beside the point. What I do not appreciate is your callous regard for my feelings. It's like you're constantly talking out of your head." she said.

"I know, I know, and it was wrong of me to say that. And as for Arnold-"

"Yes?" Helga asked, ready for the onslaught.

"It shouldn't be weird for me to be as…upset about him and you, but I am. It's just weird for me; the two of you are so close, I wonder why you're dating me and not him." he confessed.

'_I wonder the same thing sometimes…' _she thought. "Well, if you'd spend less time being worried about me and Arnold-and trying to make me avoid him, you'd be a lot better off. And don't act like you don't do it. I've noticed all your new 'alternate routes'; it takes me twice as long to get to class." Helga said, trying to fight the smile on her face as Derek shrugged. "And I hate going back to the 'Viola thing', but-" she began.

"Then don't." Derek said. Helga had to fight the urge, this time to smack him.

"But we need to talk about this. It's not fair for me to feel second best, all the time!" she shouted.

"When do I make you feel second best?"

"When you talk about what a great person she's becoming, and how the two of you are going to be friends now, and how I should stop being so…so…_captious_!"

"I don't remember ever having used that terminology." Derek said, raising an eyebrow and attempting to lighten the mood.

"It doesn't matter, Derek. She's your friend, okay? I get that. I don't want her to be your friend, but I can deal with that." Helga said.

"Why wouldn't you want us to be friends?" he asked. "You're the one encouraging me to get back in touch with my dad, saying that I need to mend bridges, or whatever."

Helga rolled her eyes. This was taking longer than she intended, and she was missing out on valuable trash-talking time. "Derek, you know that's not the same, and you being friends with Viola is going to put me in a very difficult position. This is going to put a serious strain on our relationship." she explained.

"It hasn't so far!"

"Yes, it has! Every time we have any sort of argument, it's going to go right back to her, because that's going to be the biggest problem between us. Because every time that I want to talk to you, or call you, there's going to be a big obstacle in the way. And, to be honest, I'm _so _tired of her being everywhere! Since when does being your friend mean that she's your shadow?!"

"She's not my shadow, Helga…"

"Really? Because it seems like I can't go anywhere without us either talking about her, or her just being there! It's like there's some magical wizard of Skankdom, and by some sort of slut magic she appears to give me a mystical migraine!" Helga said, trying to calm herself down. "Maybe, we just rushed into this. I mean, I barely knew you, and you obviously don't know me. And as for skiing this weekend-"

"You're coming, right? I really don't want to go if you're not." Derek pleaded.

"I think that you should go with your friends, and get your mind cleared, and I should stay here and…figure things out for myself." she said, nodding. "In the meantime, I think we should take a break."

"What?!" Derek asked, completely blindsided by the remark. He thought he was making some kind of progress seeing as he had been standing in the store for upwards of seven minutes and no object had managed to come barreling toward his head. Yet.

"I just think that we need to get back on the same page, and we can't do that if we're around each other, fighting and tip-toeing and avoiding the real issues. And frankly, Derek, I'm exhausted." Helga confessed.

"Then come with me. Take a break from school and dance and-"

"Not like that. I'm tired. I'm tired all the time. You're right, I've got school and dance company and volleyball, and now this Caroline Henrietta dance "showdown" to worry about, and it feels like it's too much. And, at the end of the day, I need some kind of reprieve from everything. And for a while, I thought you would be that reprieve.

"Derek, let's face it, you and I are screwed up. And not like normal people, either. We are _massively _screwed up. And when we're around each other it's fun, and great, but sometimes it's just bad. I know that I've got some things that I need to clear up, and I have a feeling that you do too. I think it's best that you go with your friends; I have a ton of work to do, helping Olga plan this party for my parents…and next week, we'll take it from there."

"And what happens if, next week, we're not back to square one?" he asked, almost angrily, but Helga knew it was more hurt than anger.

"Then…I don't know." she said, beginning to feel tired again. She had to find an immediate respite from the feeling, but she couldn't think of any. She kept her arms crossed and her hands curled into tight fists, hidden from Derek's view. She could feel a headache brewing, but tried to fight it off.

Derek stared at Helga as she glanced away, awkwardly. Wringing his hands, he spoke even quieter than before, clearly nervous after her revelation. "I know you don't want to hear this, but, I really don't want to lose you. I mean it." he said, stepping closer. Helga anticipated his actions, but didn't try to avoid them. It would have been to much, moving away from him the way she really wanted to…adding insult to injury in the worst way. Derek left a soft kiss on her cheek, but she didn't turn to it, making it anything more than a simple peck. She looked at him sadly, letting him know with her eyes that her decision was final. Nodding, Derek left the store, without exchanging any pleasantries with Robbie.

Helga slid down beside a bin of marked down leg warmers and waited for Robbie to join her. When he did, he wordlessly sat down across from her, mirroring their positions when they sat behind the cash register.

"So…" he began awkwardly. "That looked like _fun_."

"More than you could possibly imagine." Helga said, dryly. She let her hair, loose from it's usual ponytail fall into her face and over her back. She hadn't worn her hair loose in a long time. Derek told her that it was distracting and "unkempt" looking. Derek had a lot of opinions regarding a lot of things.

"What happened, exactly?" he asked. "I mean, one minute you were all, 'this guy is so awesome, and I met his cousin and we danced' and all of a sudden, you're kind of moody looking, and kind of cranky like when it's your time of the month and you're too angry to tell me, but I already know, but I'm trying to be nice and not say that I know, so you don't hit me or something." Robbie said, smiling after his speech.

'_Maybe I _should _hook him up with Lila…' _she thought, before reverting back to her current situation. "I don't know, I'm just…in a weird place, and I have to get my mind right, before I do anything else." Helga said.

"Sounds to me, my dear, fat little cousin, that you need a break." Before Helga could agree, or glance at the nearby clock to confirm how much time was left until closing, Robbie shouted up to their aunt, in her office on the second floor. She came out, dressed in her signature deep purple and burgundy, and leaned over the rail. The second floor of the store held not only her office but her "workshop", the area where she did most, if not all of her tailoring and alteration work. Even the stairs leading up to her secluded area was littered with scarps of fabric, buttons and sequins.

"Yes?" she drawled, looking down over Helga and Robbie.

"Helga's not feeling well, and has to go home." he yelled back.

"Not feeling well?"

Robbie rolled his eyes. "She's…well, it's her 'time of the month', if you will…" he shouted back, cupping his hand to his mouth as if telling a secret, despite the volume with which he was speaking. Helga frowned and kicked at her cousin, who managed to move away from her just in time. "What? The ex boyfriend has left the building, and there's nothing but a few ballet moms shopping around, anyway." he told her.

As she left, she wasn't sure whether she should thank Robbie or throw him from a tree along with Derek. On the one hand, he got her the rest of the evening off. At the same time, four 'ballet moms' offered her disposable napkins on her way out of the store.

* * *

"And so, photo editing programs should be used only to enhance a photo. The job of a photojournalist is to record history; capture it for the sake of learning. Not to change it." Mr. Z said, addressing his class. He placed his notes back on the lectern and steeped from behind it. "Now, class, feel free to take a five-minute break while I set up the dark room." he finished, as the class began to empty into the hallway.

Derek was busy arranging his negatives into their individual sleeves when the word "break" met his ears and he was immediately reminded of the conversation he had with Helga the day before. Unwillingly he gave her some space; showing up late for his assignment as English Aide, so as not to bump into her, and not offering more than a friendly smile when she passed him in the hallways, to and from class. He silently hoped that it would eat away at her; she'd see and feel what it was like to be without him and the two could end their silly break before he left for the mountains the following day. However, as time went on, he realized that she was taking their 'break' fairly well; he watched her laughing in the cafeteria with her friends, chatting aimlessly with the librarians and from the garbage he found in the English office, she didn't take his comment about her size too seriously. The bag in the garbage bin read 'The Donut Shack' and smelled suspiciously of chocolate.

The realization dawned on him that something, or someone else may have already known about the temporary break that he and Helga were going through, and decided to approach the situation head on. Walking across the classroom, Derek moved toward the seat that Arnold relocated himself to a few weeks ago. Arnold sat quietly at his station, headphones in his ears as he marked the areas on one of his photos that needed some work. He didn't take notice of Derek's presence until he knocked on the table.

Removing one of his headphones, Arnold looked at Derek, clearly bored. "What?" he asked, monotonously.

"Listen up: this is just a _break_. Nothing more. Don't get your hopes up." Derek said, simply, wrinkling his brow.

Arnold blinked at Derek's remark, before looking to the clock on a nearby wall. He nodded to Derek, but kept his face expressionless. "I know. Five minutes? That's barely enough time to run to the vending machines downstairs…" he said.

Derek stood before him, enraged not only because he was sure that Arnold knew what he was really talking about, and even more frustrated that he wasn't able to intimidate him. "I mean it. You stay away from her, understand?" he said, leaving Arnold alone at the table.

Arnold stared after Derek, clearly confused. Assuming that the young man had a bad head injury from his most recent lacrosse game, or spent too much time breathing in developer solution, Arnold replaced his headphones and stared at his photos, shaking his head.

* * *

Sitting at the island in the kitchen, Helga placed another slice of cheese on the piece of bread and placed it in the toaster oven. Turning it on, she moved to replace the food, when someone entered the kitchen.

"Hey Helg…what are you doing, _Woman_?!" Kevin said, eyeing the block of cheese in Helga's hand.

Setting the cheese down on the counter, Helga placed her hands on her hips and looked at her brother in law. "Look here, I've contended with you calling me "Woman" for five years now. Cut it out. You have a wife…call _her _woman. I'm no one's wife." Helga said, knowing that the banter between herself and Kevin was far too light-hearted to take seriously.

Disregarding her comment, he continued. "Whatever, Woman. All I know is, you had best put down my cheese, or there will be serious ramifications."

"_Your _cheese?" Helga asked.

"Yes. _My _cheese. This is _my _house, that's _my _cheese." he said, snatching it from her.

Holding up her hands defensively, Helga stepped back. "Alright, alright, it's your cheese. Sorry for touching the cheese of His Highness, however can I repay you?" she asked sarcastically.

Grabbing a knife from a nearby drawer, Kevin began slicing a few pieces for himself. "You can explain why you're in my house, again. Not that I mind, just wondering."

"I'm helping your insane wife plan this party." Helga said, waiting for the toaster oven to glow bright red. "Did you know that she's trying to pull this thing off for next weekend?! Is she crazy, or something?"

"We both know the answer to that, Helga. " he said, chuckling. "What's so bad about her planning a party for next weekend? You're not busy, are you?"

"No." Helga said, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter. "I just have a ton of things to worry about right now. There's this dance competition coming up, and we haven't even gotten all the details about that, so it could really be anything. Then there's the party that Olga's planning, and you know she's going to try and make it ridiculously huge. Then, there's Derek-"

"What happened to Derek?" Kevin asked. Sometime after the babysitter incident, Helga explained to him just who was and was not her boyfriend, and even though he slipped up at times, he was generally good at keeping them in line. She figured that it was just her own family who had a bad time remembering names.

"We're kind of…broken up?" she said, raising an eyebrow and posing the answer as a question. She wasn't sure how to word the status of her relationship; she was firm with Derek, as firm as she knew how to be in her current state of stress, letting him know what she needed to do, apart from him. How he interpreted that, was a mystery.

"_Kind of broken up_?" Kevin asked, shrugging his shoulders. "So, were you the dumper or the dumpee?"

"Dumper." Helga answered, quickly. She smiled to herself as the toaster oven 'dinged' and she removed her slices of toast from it, ready to make a sandwich. She looked back to Kevin to find him smiling at her. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's just that, you say 'We're broken up', but you don't _look _broken up. You seem okay, albeit a little bit stressed." he noted.

Helga assembled her sandwich and thought about what Kevin was saying. Aside from being under an extreme amount of stress, she was faring pretty well. Her anxiety came from ending things with Derek (even though she was smart enough to know that things weren't completely over; Derek's plea was enough to let her know that), and once that task was handled, she felt a great deal of ease. The coming weekend, however was proving to be just the opposite. Olga loved planning, and when she did, she always went big.

"I guess I am." she said, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

Before Kevin could reply, a shrill "Helga!' rang from the living room and Helga sighed, even with her mouth full of food. Snatching a clean plate from the countertop, she turned toward the living room, moving lethargically. Once in the living area, Helga took a seat next to Olga, who sat up perfectly straight on the couch, balancing a laptop on her knee, while Helga lounged.

"You rang?" she asked, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"Okay, so," Olga began, looking excited. "I've got the venue down, invitations are being sent out via email, and all the decorations are coming together. Now, we get to the fun part!" she squealed.

Helga smiled widely and clapped her hands together. "Oh, but Olga, this has already been so much fun, just _ever-so_ much fun!" she said, letting the fake smile drop from her face to reveal her apprehension regarding the rest of the party planning details. She couldn't care less if they held the party in an abandoned barn…

"I know!" Olga said, excitedly, obviously not noticing her sister's boredom. "I found both of our dresses, come see!" she said, motioning for Helga to scoot over on the couch. Lazily, she complied, and leaned over to view the screen of the laptop. "This one is mine." she said, pulling up a picture of a dark haired model in a long, lavender gown. The silky material hugged the lithe frame of the model and the strapless, sweetheart neckline made the wearer look taller than she was.

"That's actually a really nice dress, Olga." Helga said. Even though she was older, Helga was always impressed with Olga's ability to give birth to two kids and still look like how she did in college.

"I know! And I found yours too…look." she said, clicking on a link that revealed another dress. This was was s deep green, and like Olga's it was long. The neckline, however was a straight line across the shoulder and it boasted an empire waist, something Helga wasn't too fond of.

"Um, Olga, why did you order my dress from the maternity section?" she asked.

"You Silly, that's not maternity. That's just how it's cut." she explained.

"But the model looks pregnant. I don't want to look pregnant. I'm not pregnant. You don't want mom and dad to think that their anniversary party is going to double as a "Hey Guess What? Your Daughter is Pregnant " party, do you?" she asked, eyeing the dress again. "And what's up with that color? It looks like it's made out of army fatigues…"

"Mommy's favorite color is lavender and daddy likes green. So, it's only appropriate that those are the theme colors for the night. And the dress will look wonderful on you, just wait." she assured her, as Kevin entered the room. Standing behind his wife, he stopped and stared at the illuminated computer screen, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Baby," he said, addressing his wife. "Why are you looking at maternity gowns? Do you have something to tell me? We just had twins!" he panicked.

"See, he thinks it's maternity too." Helga said.

"It's not maternity, and I'm not pregnant. This is Helga's dress for the party next week." Olga explained.

Kevin then looked to Helga wide eyes. "Is that why you broke up with him? You're pregnant?"

"Broke up with who? Arnold?" Olga asked.

"I wasn't dating Arnold." Helga said, knowing that the conversation could only go downhill from there.

"Then how'd he get you pregnant?" Kevin asked.

"He didn't!"

"So it's Derek's baby?"

"What baby?" Olga asked, shocked.

"There is no baby!"

"Oh Helga," Olga said, placing a hand on her sister's knee. "Did you…lose the baby?"

Helga continued fuming. "There never was a baby." she said through her teeth.

"If there never was a baby," Kevin began. "Then why are you wearing a maternity gown to your parents anniversary party?"

"It's not a maternity, gown!" Olga defended.

Helga shook her head and stood up, facing the couple. "I'm convinced that everyone around me has officially lost their marbles. As a result, I must take my leave." Helga bent to gather her bag and coat. "Oh, and don't worry about ordering that dress for me, Olga. I'll just…find my own."

"Remember, it has to be _green_." she said, over her shoulder. "Oh and I need you to do one more, little teensy, tiny thing for me…"

"What?" Helga asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"I'm going to need you to go pick up grandma." Olga said, smiling nervously.

Helga stopped moving and stared at her sister. If that was a teensy, tiny favor, then she wanted to know what a big favor was. "Olga, grandma lives in Dickinson. Dickinson, North Dakota. Fifteen hours away." she reminded her sister.

"I know…"

"When am I supposed to do that? I have school…" she said. Helga never had any problem visiting her grandmother. She surmised that of all the members in her immediate family, she probably visited her grandmother the most.

"I called the school today and told them you'd be out for the rest of the week." Olga said, smiling at her handiwork.

"Olga! You can't just call the school and tell them that I'll be out! Plus, don't they usually need permission from a parent or guardian? Last time I checked, you're neither."

"Oh Helga," Olga said, waving her hand at her like she'd just said something silly. "I'm Olga Pataki." she finished, as if it were the end all be all of everything. Helga was convinced that, on more than one occasion, Olga used her name to get exactly what she wasted.

"Actually, you're Olga _Winters_." Helga corrected her. "And I'm really, really busy these days."

"But, _Helg-uhhh_, I need you to do this for me. She's staying with us up until the party, and then I'll be glad to take her back home. Please?" she asked, pouting.

"Fine." Helga said, looking forward to getting out of Hillwood, for what looked like the remainder of the week and on into the weekend, and visiting her grandmother, but not to the fifteen hour drive to Dickinson. Closing the front door behind her, she ignored the excited "thanks" that Olga sent her way, and tried to think of when she could leave.

On her short trek home, she was struck with an idea, that, to any sane person, made absolutely no sense and required a great deal of coaxing to work out. Once she was home, she told her mother what Olga planned for her (only to find that Miriam was already informed and approved of the trip) and removed a dark blue suitcase from the attic. Laying it open on the floor of her bedroom, she stared at it, wondering what and how to pack for a trip that would last several days. Smiling to herself she kicked it closed and moved it into her closet, out of sight.

Digging her phone out of her bag, Helga went into her most recent calls list and found the number she was looking for. Three rings later, she was met with a tired sounding voice, even though it was only around six o'clock at night.

"Hey Footballhead." she said, still grinning. "How quickly can you get packed?"

* * *

Yeah, I wish I could say that this was the end, and Arnold and Helga are together, and Derek really does run away somewhere, only to be eaten by a rhino, but no. Much more to come.

I've run out of lyrics with which to name my chapters, and now I have tot think of them all by myself.

My big brother (whom Kevin is somewhat modeled after) really does call me "Woman". I thought it'd stop after he got married, but alas. It has not. Hope you enjoyed!

-Pointy_Objects


	29. Another White Dash

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 28: Another White Dash**

_"There is something  
Exciting, about leaving everything behind.  
There is something  
Deep and pulling, leaving everything behind.  
Something about having everthing  
You think you'll ever need,  
Sitting in the seat next to you..."_

_Butterfly Boucher_

_"Another White Dash"_

**

* * *

**

Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Arnold waited for the world before him to come back into focus. He had little remembrance of the night that lay a few hours behind him. Trying to piece together his whereabouts (and how he happened to get there), Arnold looked around the interior of the small car and gathered information mentally. Once he took note of the strong scent of pomegranate that surrounded him, the tiny disco ball hanging from the rearview mirror and the slightly bandaged foot dangling in front of the window next to him, he found himself smiling at his realization.

Tugging on the heel of the foot that swung so carelessly next to him, he wasn't surprised by the reaction it garnered. Helga never liked anyone touching her feet.

Arnold climbed out of the car once Helga drew her foot up and tucked it under her thigh, seating herself stately upon the top of the car. Outside, he found little more than plains upon plains of ankle high grass, and black asphalt stretching off into a straight line.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Helga shot him a tired look and rolled her eyes, her low ponytail picking up the slight breeze and folding itself over her shoulder. "Well, according to _this _map, and _this _GPS and _that _big, green sign that says, "_Welcome to Billings, Montana_", I'm gonna guess that we're somewhere near Billings, Montana. Just a guess."

Looking behind him, Arnold noted the same sign, void of any decoration or embellishment; just a plain, old sign that told them where they were. Turning back, he watched Helga scan the map in front of her, with her eyes, looking from the map to the GPS to the road in front of them. He had to admit, in the past few days of not talking to Helga, he genuinely missed her wit.

"Thanks for the update." he said. Within a few minutes, his subconscious reminded him how he happened to get to find himself in Moscow, Indiana, with none other than Helga G. Pataki.

* * *

"_Do you own something that's _not _blue?" Helga asked, her voice loud even though she was currently out of sight to Arnold. He sat, idly on his bed, wondering how the past four minutes happened to transpire without his knowledge. In exactly that amount of time, Helga managed to call and ask him how long he could "get packed", climb through his (locked) skylight and rummage through his closet. With the way she was going through his things, he was tempted to ask her if she'd been in there before. Occasionally, a pale arm would pop out, with some garment on the end of it, to be deposited in the pile closest to the closet door. _

"_I like blue." he said, in his defense, making no motion to get up from the bed. He had no intention of doing so until he knew what exactly she was planning. _

"_Yeah, well, no duh." she said, dropping a faded green sweatshirt on the top of the pile. "Ya' gotta spice it up a little, Arnold." she told him, halfheartedly. _

"_Why are you going through my clothes, anyway? And what was that phone call about? You hung up before I even got to ask…"_

_Helga abandoned the closet and stepped out into the room, holding another pile of clothes that she dumped, unceremoniously on top of the former pile. "I'm kidnapping you." she stated simply. "Do you have a suitcase somewhere around here?"_

"_Wait, what?" he asked, in return, knowing that Helga wasn't really "kidnapping" him. But, he also knew better than to take everything that Helga said as merely jest. Those were the times when she was most serious. _

"_Look, I'm just going on a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy little baby of a drive around the corner, and I could use some company. Are you in or not?"_

_Arnold raised an eyebrow and stepped into the closet, alongside Helga, pointing to his faded, blue suitcase on a shelf in the tiny room. _

_No use turning down an adventure._

* * *

"Take a picture, Arnold." Helga said, without having to look down on her companion. Finally taking a sideways glance at him, to size up his reaction, Helga smiled when she found out that he only smirked at his response. In truth, Helga knew no other reaction to Arnold's staring at her, other than to blush. Saying something smart was the only other option she had. "A penny for your thoughts?" she offered, quieter this time.

"We're in Montana…" he said, running a hand over his forehead and through his hair. Helga pretended that it was the chilly air that stole her breath momentarily. "What time is it?"

"Around seven. We still have a few more hours to go, if you think you can make it." she said, abandoning the GPS and map to the backseat and climbing into the driver's seat. "I'm starving. You hungry?" she asked, as Arnold climbed back in beside her. Before he could answer, Helga was taking off down the road, scanning the side streets for places to stop. "You hungry?" she repeated, a stiff breeze blowing in through her window, and making the scattered papers in the backseat rustle.

"Not really.' Arnold replied. He was more interested in this "tiny" trip that she was making, with him in tow. He wondered where exactly they were going, for how long, and why she decided to take him. He decided to tackle one question at a time. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Dickinson, North Dakota."

"North Dakota?!" he asked, his own shock surprising him. Helga's impulsive trip should have been expected; he wasn't sure why this surprised him. "Isn't that kind of far?"

"We're going to go pick up my grandmother for my parent's anniversary party next week. Olga's orders." she chimed, smiling.

Arnold nodded in recognition. Over the years, Arnold had heard of Helga's "grandmother from North Dakota" that she adored, but he had yet to ever meet her. He found it intriguing that in a generation, normally detached and apathetic to the elderly, he happened to find someone else who cared for their grandparents as much as he did.

"I like to do this every once and a while; drop everything and just visit her." Helga said, quieter. She drummed on the steering wheel to the muted sounds of her mp3 players random play list. Growing suddenly uncomfortable by the silence, Helga turned up the volume, and in relation, the speed of the car.

Arnold's hand instinctively clutched the door handle.

* * *

"Helga's not in school today." Phoebe said, leaning against Gerald's car casually. She couldn't help but take a peek into the backseat to see if there were any suspicious building supplies back there. Aside from the grey dust, left behind by the bags of cement, it was all clear.

"Ya' don't say?" Gerald replied, smiling insidiously at his girlfriend. Phoebe was too familiar with that look to take it as anything but Gerald being an accomplice to mischief.

"And, where, may I ask is your best friend, today?"

"That, too is a mystery." Gerald responded. His smirk stayed in place.

"This can either be really horrible-" Phoebe began, before Gerald interrupted her, still smiling.

"Or really, _really _horrible? Yeah, I know." Gerald said. "I thought Helga and Derek were on a break…"

"You'd think so, but I hear he's none too happy about it. They're both out for the rest of the week, so maybe things will go back to normal on Monday." Phoebe sighed, hopefully.

"Normal? Since when have things been normal?"

Phoebe tried to think back, remembering the last time that things were just "normal", and found that she couldn't. If it wasn't Arnold and Helga's never-ending limbo, it was Helga and Derek. And now, with the emergence of some strain between herself and Gerald, Phoebe doubted whether or not things could go back to being anything resembling "normal".

"Touche."

* * *

"I think the Swine Flu originated on my plate."

"It's not called the Swine Flu, anymore. It's the…H1N1 Flu, or something."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Call it what you want, but I think my bacon is crawling away from me. Literally." she said, staring at her plate of greasy food. The diner that they chose to stop into was the only one on the strip of road, on which they traveled and was named, "Dixie." There were less than ten people inside, including themselves, and most of the other occupants were truck drivers or drifters. Taking a seat near the large, glass window, Arnold and Helga both ordered the breakfast special, and regretted it as soon as it arrived at their table.

"Yeah, I think I've lost my appetite a little." Arnold said, pushing his plate away from him and towards Helga. Sitting across from each other, they tried to attempt small talk, until the real issue could present itself. "So, I have a question for you."

"And I either have an answer, or a very witty technique to avoid answering it." Helga retorted, moving a pancake across her plate.

"Why are you and I driving to Indiana?"

"I already told you, Football Face; we're off to grandmother's house. Or, retirement community for active seniors, if you will."

"But, why am _I _here? I mean, why'd you pick me and not…" Arnold said, finishing the question in his mind alone. _'…your psychotic boyfriend…'_

"Well, I could have brought Phoebe, but she skips school for no one. Except Gerald, but apparently she cried during the movie and he ended up bringing her back to school by third period.

"Gerald was never an option, because no matter how much we get along, sixteen hours on the road with him is torture.

"Lila would have been fun, but she messes with the radio too much, and likes to listen to girly music, so that option is out. Which leaves only you, my dear friend as my traveling companion. Consider yourself lucky." she finished, giving up on finding anything edible on her plate and settling with folding her napkin into different shapes.

Arnold sighed. He didn't want to have to come out and say it, but Helga left him no choice in the matter. "What about Derek?"

"What about him?" she retorted, not missing a beat.

"Why didn't you ask him to go with you?"

Arnold watched Helga move back from the table and drum her fingers on the tabletop. She bit her bottom lips for a few seconds, only to release it, slightly red and swollen.

Without thinking, he smiled, realizing how much he missed this Helga.

When she was going out with Derek, she was cool, calm and collected. She managed to keep herself under check; even when she was being sarcastic and brash, she kept herself under control. It was a new, tamed, slightly reformed Helga.

And he didn't like it. More and more, day by day Arnold wished for the old Helga to come back. The same one who would be yelling at him one minute and then smiling the next. The Helga who sang songs in Spanish after too much allergy medication. The Helga that sat on the floor of hotels with wet hair and oversized pajamas, talking about becoming a writer. He wondered if she existed anymore; if, for the sake of landing a guy like Derek, she was gone forever.

And just like that, she was back; sitting in front of him looking vulnerable and slightly unsure. Gone was the Helga who had a quick answer for everything, entirely sure of herself…replaced by an equally witting, but endearingly kindhearted and seemingly mild Helga. In his mind, Arnold knew that she wasn't gone. She just managed to put up another wall or two.

"He had…plans this weekend. And mine were made too suddenly for me to ask him to drop his." she explained, finally making eye contact with him. That…" she began, quietly. "That, and we're kind of on a break."

Arnold raised an eyebrow, finding that he was only somewhat excited at this brand new news. He wasn't even aware that things were so tense around them. "Break?"

"Yeah, a break. I thought it was best." she said, flashing a small smile, so as not to break out into laughter.

"_You_? _You_ did this?" Arnold asked, only in mild disbelief. "No wonder."

"What are you talking about?"

"The other day," Arnold began, already laughing. "Mr. Z was getting the darkroom set up for prints, and gave the class a break. I don't know what happened, but Derek came over and started going on about how 'this is just a break' and 'don't get your hopes up' or something like that. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I guess it makes sense now."

Helga looked both confused and amused, staring at Arnold silently. "He said that? Wow."

Arnold's eyebrows dropped at Helga's "wow". It was almost as if she were impressed by his act of stupidity and blind accusation. "Impressive, isn't it?" he asked, the tiniest hint of malice in his voice.

"Not really. It's kind of…weird, isn't it? Why would he say that to you? You didn't even know that we were broken up…"

"I thought it was just a little break." Arnold said.

Helga scoffed and shrugged her shoulders. "The Venus de Milo's arms suffered 'just a little break', and look how beautifully that turned out." she said, depositing a few bills on the table and standing up. "Let's go, Arnoldo, before I decide to leave you out here."

* * *

"Maybe I should call her."

"_Maybe you should shut up_." came a voice from the next room over. Each room of the lodge was nicely furnished, perfect for staying in for a weekend, or longer, if one decided. Derek wasn't surprised that the voice sounded sleepy. After a long morning on the slopes, there was little else for the boys of the Lacrosse team to do but sleep.

Derek contemplated going into the next room and depositing some cold water over the head of his sleeping friend, but he was too tired. The morning wiped him out, as well as his constant thoughts of how he was going to get back together with Helga.

Despite the bickering, and whatnot, he truly saw her as something positive in his life. She motivated him to mend bridges with his estranged father, and to be less critical, a trait he wasn't aware that he even possessed. Unfortunately for Derek, he was aware that Helga's positive influence on him, was due to the positive influence that Arnold had on her. More than enough people let him know what a little bully Helga used to be; so much so that he could hardly believe that he was dating the same person. And each one of his sources let him know that since she gained Arnold's friendship, her bullying ways calmed down significantly.

"He's got a point, ya know." Alex mentioned, snapping Derek out of his thoughts. Aside from being the team's best Midfielder, he was also Derek's best friend, and had no problem speaking to him candidly. "You gotta lay off the girlfriend drama. At least for the weekend."

"I know." Derek said, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't want to go home to any 'surprises'."

"Hey, you said it yourself, you guys are just on a little break. No biggie. And this is supposed to be a guy's weekend. Just have fun, and handle your business when you get home, alright?"

Derek smiled and nodded, committed to push his troubles with Helga to the back of his mind and enjoy the weekend. A moment or so later, the doorbell rang, and a tired looking blonde boy, by the name of Reggie, ambled from the kitchen area and answered it. The door was out of Derek's range of vision, but he could clearly hear the voices of the people coming through the door. They were high pitched and giggly, and immediately, Derek was glad that he didn't answer the door.

"Aww man, did Reg invite the girls? I knew he was going to do that. Gigi's got him on a short leash…" Alex noted, shaking his head.

Derek tried to remember who Gighi was, or why the name sounded so familiar, but quickly brushed the thought from his mind. "So, Reg brought along his girlfriend, what's the worst that could happen?" Derek asked, shrugging his shoulders. Before he could turn back to the doorway, a female's voice called his name, over the commotion from the front room.

The first thing that caught Derek's eye was green. Green sequins. A bright green scarf, swished into the room, a bright green, glove-clad hand waved at him. And underneath a green-sequined hat, sat a mass of bright red hair and the one person Derek least expected to see atop the mountain.

* * *

"Ah, the memories." Helga said, driving though the gates of the Govey Leigh Retirement Community for Active Seniors. The gate master knew her by face first, and then beamed at her name Arnold surmised that Helga and her grandmother were both celebrities when it came to this place.

The two teens drove alongside long rows of spacious-looking apartment buildings, the community pool and deckhouse, marveling at everything. Helga noted all the recent changes that were made, but Arnold was just in shock. He asked himself if this is what 'Casa Paradiso' would have been like.

Helga parked in front of the community clubhouse and hopped out of the car to stretch. Her hair was pulled up and out of her face, but as soon as she stepped out of the car, she released it and allowed the soft breeze to catch and lift the ends of her hair. She walked into the clubhouse without so much as looking back at Arnold, who ambled out of the car and caught up with her as she entered the sliding glass doors. Walking up to, what looked like a concierge desk, Helga leaned over casually and rested her chin upon her open palm.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the red haired man behind the desk asked. Upon closer inspection, Arnold found that he was probably no older than the both of them. His use of the word 'Ma'am and the smug climb of his eyebrow told Arnold that he wasn't terribly serious about helping Helga.

"Yeah, I'm here to visit Miss Veronika Pataki. Room 17B." Helga said, getting straight to the point.

The young man typed rapidly on the computer in front of him, his eyes darting across the screen. "Sign in logs tell us that she was last seen in the dining hall, but went back to her room about an hour ago, more than likely to lie down before lunch. Would you like me to call and let her know that you're here?"

"Yeah, you dumb sack of rocks. Wake up my 82 year old grandmother, for me, would ya?" she said, curling her lip at him. "No, Dillweed, I'll just wait for her in the lounge. Thanks." Helga said, walking away from the concierge desk, leaving the young man looking surprisingly unharmed.

"Nice to see you to Helga."

"Right back at ya, Ralph." she said, lifting a hand to wave, but not bothering to turn around. Once again, Arnold followed, convinced that sometimes, it was best to just follow Helga without much objection on his part.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, the two friends found themselves embroiled in a heated game of chess. Arnold hadn't played seriously in years, and Helga managed to wing it for the entire game, fumbling only a few times.

"Umm…" Helga said, moving her left rook forward, but keeping her finger on top of it, unsure whether or not the move would end the game. Arnold was clearly in his element, moving his pieces without more than a few seconds of contemplation. Somewhat unwillingly, Helga released the rook and sighed, knowing her fate was sealed.

She was so focused on Arnold's triumphant smile that she barely noticed the aged hand coming from her left and moving Arnold's queen directly across the board from Helga's. Helga looked up to find Arnold's reaction as an amused one.

"I think that's a checkmate, Helga." he said, still smiling.

Looking quickly from Arnold to the elderly woman standing in front of her, Helga managed a tiny smile before standing up. She stood nearly a head taller than the aged woman before her, and tried to look down on her menacingly. "What's the big idea?" she asked, smartly, causing Arnold to look at her with shock. Was this the same Helga who sang her grandmother's praises for the entirety of their trip? Why was she being so disrespectful to a woman that she didn't even know?

"Helga-" he began, ready to chastise her, but the old woman beat him to it.

"He was going to beat you anyway." the woman said, in a quiet voice, and a deep, authentic German accent. "You are losing your touch, meine liebchen, but not your fire."

Helga let her shoulders fall as a smile erupted on her face. "Nice to see you too grandma."

* * *

_A shorty, but I like it. Someone reviewed saying that Arnold seems a little 2-D, and I couldn't agree more. I really want to bring him out in these next few chapters, so that's my goal, and if you guys have any ideas, fel free to let me know. 3-D Arnold will rise again!_

_This chapter is officially dedicated to Harbour Master, who was nice enough to PM me, to make sure I was still alive, and writing this story, and inspire me to write through my little funk. Also, she's really pretty and has an adorable profile page. You guys should check it out. It'll make you smile. _

_In other news…there is much other news. Just living life, trying to write. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! _

_Later days,_

_Pointy_Objects_


	30. Lady V

**

* * *

**

The Compromise

**Chapter 29: Lady V**

* * *

Arnold found himself lost; entirely shipwrecked and drowning in a sea of incomprehensible German.

"Oma!'

"Ja, meine wenig Liebe!"

"Wie geht es Ihnen?"

Even if he did know what they were talking about, he felt bad about butting in. A momentary flood of anxiety washed over him…what if they were talking about him? What if her grandmother thought less of him because he escorted her granddaughter cross-country without a chaperone?

"Wie ist deine freund?" Arnold heard the old woman say, in the most warbly, quiet, beautiful voice he ever heard. When she spoke to Helga, she was excited and wise, almost. As if every word was something that Helga could learn from. When she spoke to him, however, she commanded his attention, despite her age and frailty. She spoke like she already knew what he need from her.

Arnold found this mesmerizing and slightly disturbing.

"Oh, dies ist…this is Arnold. My friend." Helga said, looking between Arnold and her grandmother, and possibly sending her some telepathic signals so that she wouldn't say or do anything to startle him. Arnold surmised that it was already too late.

Instead of answering, Helga's grandmother released Helga's hand and bent low to look Arnold in the face. The gesture wasn't unknown to Arnold; as his grandmother's eyesight waned, he found that she, very often, would stand or sit very close to him, so as to hear or see him better. She always had the faint smell of some old perfume that wasn't manufactured anymore and something odd like oil pant or raspberry preserves. Helga's grandmother was much the same, she looked at him right in the eye and from his vantage point, he observed her and found traces of Helga everywhere. Helga had her grandmother's big eyes, even though Helga's were brown and her grandmother's were a dull blue. Their faces were shaped exactly the same, and Arnold could tell that at one time, Helga's grandmother had the same thick, blonde hair that Helga fussed over daily. Her hair was still think; thicker than the hair on ay woman he'd ever seen. But it was almost completely white, remarkably so.

"Ah, yes," she said, in a deep German accent. "Lovely. You will give my granddaughter the most beautiful green-eyed children." she said, sweetly.

At that, Arnold's neck jerked around and he felt his ears begin to burn. Children?! Looking to Helga, he found her, trying to get her grandmother's attention, but stuttering the entire time.

"Oma! Nein!" Helga said, reverting back to German to scold her grandmother lovingly.

"Nein kindern? Warum nicht?"

Arnold, still stunned, remembered that nicht either meant "no" or "night". So, if Helga was denying something (probably the possibility of her bearing his children), her grandmother probably wanted to know why. Instead of speaking her answer, Helga merely shook her head and smiled.

"You children, today…" Helga's grandmother said, putting special emphasis on "today". "How will I ever get any great-grandchildren at this rate?" she asked. Helga offered her her seat and stood in front of the chess board, while Arnold sat in front of the two conversing women awkwardly.

"Grandma, you have great-grandchildren, remember? Olga had the twins a few months back." Helga reminded her.

"Ah, yes. The other one. How is she?"

Arnold nearly died from whiplash this time. Olga? Being referred to as "The Other One"? Never did he think in his lifetime, that someone would know Olga by anything as the crown jewel of the Pataki family and this side of the world. Despite the fact that he regarded Helga more so than Olga, for obvious reasons, Arnold surmised that their grandmother looked upon Helga in such a way because she took the effort to visit her more often.

"She's fine. As crazy as ever." Helga answered. "She's throwing mom and dad a party, and I've come to take you home with us."

"Oh, I can't go today. The fireworks are tomorrow night. I so like to watch them from my room."

Arnold's attention drifted as Helga reassured her grandmother that they wouldn't be taking her home for a few days at least. The architecture of the building was interesting to him, especially taking into consideration it was a retirement home and not a museum. The lounge, where he and Helga perched themselves, awaiting her grandmother was nicely furnished; floral printed chairs, separated by dark wooden tables and ottomans, that he was sure no one ever used. The plush carpeting was light green, and he was not surprised to find a few wandering residents pacing the floor sans shoes.

"Isn't that right, Arnold?" Helga asked, bringing him out of his reverie. When he blinked back at her, Helga smiled wider, and answered the question for him. "We'd love a tour, Oma. Thanks." she said, tapping the front of Arnold's open hand and walking forward, her grandmother a few paces ahead of her.

Arnold shook his head, ignored the voice that made him realize how much he'd rather be holding Helga's hand, and took his place right next to her.

* * *

"I really don't think this is a good idea…" Derek said, standing up, and subconsciously backing away from the green-clad person who just entered the room.

"Why not?" Viola asked, cocking her head to the side, like an innocent puppy. "Didn't Helga tell you? I want us all to be friends…"

"I know that, but this is just a bad time. I mean, Helga and I are…we just-" he began, running a hand through his shaggy hair nervously. Viola interrupted him, looking shocked.

"D…" she cooed. "Don't tell me you two are…over?"

"No! We're not over!' he said, a little too quickly. "We're just taking a break; spending some time apart until we get our heads on straight." Derek could only hope that she would leave it at that.

Viola dropped her shoulder and shook her head, slowly. "I understand what you're going through, D. Because I've been there too. But, I don't want you and Helga breaking up over something like this. That blonde boy has nothing on you; and besides, once you told her how you felt, I'm absolutely sure that she put all that…behavior to rest, right?"

"What behavior?"

"Oh, Derek, don't be silly." Viola said, playfully perching her hand on Derek's shoulder and letting it slide down to his hand. "You can't tell me that their connection is simply emotional…"

Derek glanced fleetingly around the room, trying to piece together what Viola was telling them. On one hand, Viola didn't really know Helga or Arnold that well; she could have been making assumptions based on her observations of them. But, what had she observed to make her think that Helga had actually cheated on him with Arnold?

"Viola, you don't know what you're talking about. Helga wouldn't do that; we're…we're not _over_." he said, stressing the word. "I just have a lot on my mind. I came here to relax." he said, shaking his head again. "I gotta go."

Viols watched Derek brush past her, leaving the room. Smiling wickedly, she lifted the strap of the bag she'd carelessly thrown on the nearest armchair and fingered the glass bottles inside.

"And I have just the thing to relax you, dear…"

* * *

"And last year, we planted the loveliest purple hydrangeas, right along that wall…"

Helga loved her grandmother, quite possibly more than any other person on the planet, but could barely keep her mind from wandering as they strolled outside. Veronika showed her all the renovations to the inside of the building (even the ones in her personal suite, which consisted of a new faucet for the bathroom sink and a fresh coat of paint), before taking them outside. During the day, the gardens were bright and colorful; the various and seasonal flowers doing much for her mood.

Prior to the trip, Helga was still nervous about her encounter with Derek, and found that her decision to take Arnold along with her might not have been the wisest. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was, literally, hopping from one guy to another, confirming his earlier (and forgiven) accusation that she was merely looking for someone to pay attention to her. In reality, Helga trusted Arnold entirely, and when she could be herself around no one else in the world she could around two people: he and her grandmother. Having the only two recipients of her complete trust in one place was just convenient.

At the same time, she strived to keep her distance; she really had little idea what the small excursion was going to do for their friendship (or more, depending on how candid they were willing to be with one another), but the last thing she wanted to do was move too fast and ruin something potentially amazing.

Helga found this especially hard once they got outside, and Arnold began playfully shoving her off the concrete pathway, in addition to finding herself pushing him back as hard; all of their actions going unnoticed by her grandmother.

"Will you cut it out?" she whispered harshly.

"Why don't _you _cut it out?" he answered back, poking her in the back now. Not that Helga minded his playful touches, but she wasn't sure how long they'd be able to pretend to be riveted by her grandma's detailed narrative of the outer perimeter of the home.

"I'm gonna pinch you."

"I'm gonna pinch _you_."

Helga rolled her eyes. "You're so childish." With that, Helga walked faster, striding alongside her grandmother now, so that if Arnold did decide to continue messing with her, she would at least have an eyewitness. "Lady V, how did you and Opa meet?" Helga asked even though she could quote the story verbatim, as if she were there.

"Lady V?" Arnold whispered to himself, not intending for Helga to hear. Either way, she did and turned quickly to answer his question.

"It's what I call her sometimes, since her name is Veronika, and all." Helga said, pronouncing her grandmother's name with a strong German accent. "Kind of like how you call your grandma 'Mary, Queen of Scots'." Arnold shrugged and waited for the older woman to begin her story.

"Oh, that was so long ago." she said, taking a seat on a stony, garden bench, slowly. Helga lowered herself next to her and Arnold followed suit, sandwiching Helga between the two. "I was a Krankenschwester…a nurse, at the hospital near my home, and he was a doctor from Hungary. One day, one of the doctors fell down, after a long night of working. He was so tired, and hit his head, very badly. I was asked to bandage his head, but when I get there to see him, I could not believe what I saw!" she said, bringing a hand to her face.

Arnold, concerned, leaned over Helga's frame to ask what was so shocking about the man's head. "Was he very badly injured?"

"Well, yes. But his head? It was so big!" she said, laughing quietly, the sound increasingly merrily. "It was so long, I had to fetch more gauze just to wrap it twice.

"For days, I would visit him, and everyday, I say to him, _"Wie gehts, König Fußball Kopf?"_ she said, laughing harder now. Joining her, Helga began laughing as well, and, once again, Arnold felt terribly left out of the equation. The statement was made so quickly, that he couldn't begin to decipher it, even if he wanted to. "His German was very bad at the time, and even after we wed, and moved here," Veronika said, gesturing around her. "I didn't tell him what it meant. He only found out on our 60th wedding anniversary; a few years before he passed." she said, wiping away a tear of laughter from her rosy cheek.

"I miss your Opa Franz everyday." she finally said, quietly. With that, she turned to Helga and cupped her face lovingly. It was the single most tender moment Arnold had ever seen between Helga and another person, and he felt almost ashamed witnessing it.

"Me too. I miss the old 'König Fußball Kopf'." Helga said, smiling.

"Well, that's enough sad memories, for one afternoon.", Lady V said, taking Helga's outstretched arm and hoisting herself up. "How about some dinner?"

* * *

"Thanks, boys, you're the best." Viola said, offering Reggie a kiss on the cheek and advancing down the hallway, toward the bedroom she hadn't set foot in since that morning. Viola laughed at her own devious cunning; pausing the hallway to straighten herself out. After a day on the slopes, she noticed that Derek was making special effort to avoid being alone with her. Once they returned to the boys' cabin, Viola broke open what alcohol she brought, as well as what as stashed in the refrigerator. She watched Derek closely, knowing his weakness for the bottle, and in his current state, he was all too vulnerable.

_Once the clock struck one in the morning, Viola searched for her phone so she could call a cab, and head back to the cabin that she and her friend's rented out. Feigning shock and surprise, she held the phone close to her face as she listened to her what she told everyone was her "voicemail" (in reality, just her ringtone paying on loop). Once, she pulled the phone from her face, and everyone asked what was wrong. She told them the horrific tale. _

_"Apparently, the cabin has been flooded. One of the nearby lodges saw it and called someone in to fix it. But, where are we going to stay?" she whined._

_"What are you talking about, Vi?" Gigi said, obviously not the brightest crayon in the box, seeing as the other girls picked up on Viola's plan in a heartbeat. "I told you the cabin was flooded on the drive up here, remember? Then you said, 'It's the perfect way for me to be alon-'Oww!" she said, shutting up, only after Viola stepped on her bare foot. "What was that for?!"_

_"Oh, Gigi. You're so silly." Viola said, scrunching her nose and silently telling her daft friend to shut up or else._

Once the boys heard of their plight, they began assigning rooms, and thanks to their drunken state, Viola easy conned her way into Derek's room.

Donned in her favorite red T-shirt (and little else), that he gave her when they were together, Viola knocked on the last door of the hallway, before quietly letting herself in. Peeking into the hallway, she made sure no one was watching, closed the door and locked it behind her.

Turning to the bed, she saw a slumbering Derek, and shook her head at her own well executed plan.

"Get ready, Helga. I'm about to hit you where it hurts."

* * *

"I'm so glad you've come to see me, meine wenig Liebe." Veronika said, kissing both of Helga's cheeks as they said their goodbyes at the door outside of her grandmother's suite. "Call me as soon as you get to your…Gasthof." she said, Helga smiled. She loved it when her grandmother used German words in her everyday speech. Even after living in the states for most of her adult life, she still reverted back to her native tongue when she could not think of the word she wanted to say.

"Oh, we're not staying at an inn. We're staying here, in the guest suites. Like I always used to." Helga said.

"I think they're being fixed, liebe. Will they have one for you _and _your friend?" she asked. For the entire evening, Veronika referred to Arnold as Helga's "friend", followed by a mischievous smirk, or her "freund", which would make Helga narrow her eyes and shake her head, all the while smiling.

"Of course. Don't worry about me. Get some sleep, okay?" Helga said, leaning forward and hugging her grandmother tightly. "Good night."

Once the two women disengaged, Arnold bashfully offered a hug as well, and bid the old woman a goodnight. Once her door clicked shut, Helga grabbed Arnold's arm and hurried back to the stairwell and toward the front desk.

"What's wrong, Helga?" Arnold asked when she finally loosened her grip as Ralph, standing stately behind the front counter, came into view.

"We need to get a room." she said, quickly.

Arnold brushed off the underlying meaning and followed Helga, listening closely as she schmoozed, winked, and all but stole, to get a place for them to sleep.

"You're in luck. I have two rooms left, on the third floor." Ralph said, handing them two sets of keys. Helga sighed, glad that they found not only a place to stay, but a place for each other them. _Separately_. She sighed and volunteered to get their bags.

"I must warn you though", Ralph began, before they could walk too far. "Because of recent renovations, the two rooms are connected by a single bathroom. But the bedrooms are separate. Will that be a problem?"

"No." the two answered in unison. They shared more in the past. A bathroom would be a walk in the park.

* * *

Helga walked alongside Arnold until they arrived at their rooms: 305 and 306. Helga went with the latter room, and, upon opening the door, found it to be relatively clean, aside from the smell pf fresh spackle and paint. Within fifteen minutes, Helga was dressed for bed, had the alarm on her cell phone set, and was sitting upon her bed, brushing her hair and idly getting ready for bed. As she was about to set her brush down on the dark wood nightstand, next to her large bed, he heard a frightened yell, and a crash come from the room behind her.

Arnold's room.

Leaping from her post on the bed, Helga yanked her bathroom door open, strode across the cool tiling of the floor and did the same to Arnold's door. Before she could ask what was wrong, she _saw _it.

A slab of plaster and brick lay on top of Arnold's lopsided and broken bed, the white-grey dust clouding the air of the room. Clearly, the bed was out of commission, as the weight of the plaster and concrete caused the bed to crack, nearly in half.

Helga met Arnold's eyes across the room and she smiled knowingly, as he walked back across the bathroom to her own room. Suddenly, a little spackle and paint didn't seem so bad.

Either way, she had every intention to blame it on a giving spirit and thoughtful attitude.

* * *

"Well…"

"Yup." Helga replied, following Arnold's actions and staring at the ceiling above them.

"This feels…oddly, vaguely familiar." Arnold said, tapping his fingertips against one another.

Helga glanced at him for the side, his silhouette next to her remaining unchanged. This made her smile. Just like old times. "Tell me about it…"

"Do you think, this time…?"

Helga's eyes widened, and even though he couldn't see it, she was blushing from ear to ear. "Yeah?"

"This time around, can you…can you _not_ hog all the blankets?" he asked tentatively.

"What?!"

"You were kind of a 'blanket hog' in New York."

"I was not."

"Yes. You were very much a 'blanket hog'. And a mover."

"Excuse me?" The romance clearly broken, Helga sat up and looked down on Arnold, confused.

"A mover. You move a lot. In your sleep. _A lot_." Arnold told her, trying not to laugh. It was so easy to get her flustered.

"I do not _move _in my sleep, Footballhead."

"Yes, you do."

"Well, as someone who has slept with me for years, _I_ happen to know that I do not. And what's more, I will prove it to you, by waking up tomorrow covered only in my fare share of blankets and on this side of the bed." Helga said, flopping back down, feigning anger.

"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold said, turning to steal a final glance at the back of her head, but pausing to admire the sleek curve of her back and shoulders. How did he happen to find himself, once again, in a bed with Helga, lacking parental supervision? _'Maybe I'm just lucky…' _he thought.

"Goodnight, Helga." he said, closing his eyes.

"'Nacht…"Helga said, quietly. "…meine König Fußball Kopf…"

* * *

_First things first: Dedications! This chapter is dedicated to two very special people, who happen to share the same name. First of all, The original Lady V, Miss Veronika, whom Helga's grandmother is based on. She's the loveliest little German lady you'll ever know in your whole entire life, and I love her, love her, love her. I'm gonna try and head up to see her today. She's so great._

_Secondly, to Lady V, The Remix, Vinyaya, who has been working so hard lately, and even though my obsessive inner fan girl wants to read more of "Stuck in a Classroom With You" sooo very much, I understand that she's doing her very most bestest, and for that, this chapter is yours. Well, half yours. Miss Veronika gets first picks. Sorry._

_Next on my agenda (checks agenda), oh yes…issuance of apologies. Sorry for taking so long. I was working "NO Competition" and then a few oneshots that I abandoned, and then a story that I abandoned, and trying to read…it's been crazy. I'll try to be more prompt. As you can see, things are heating up. I'm muy, muy excited._

_Next…oh yes, oh yes, the German. I lived there for a few years and LOVED IT (what I can remember anyway), so there's some simple German language used. I hate when people list things like translations at the end of a story, but now that I've encountered the problem, I don't see any other way of getting it done. Sorry. This is starting from the beginning of the chapter:_

_**Oma**__- Affectionate term for 'Grandma'_

_**Ja**__-Yes_

_**Meine**__- my (feminine)_

_**Wenig Liebe**__- Little love or Little Loved One_

_**Wie geht es Ihnen?**__- "How are you?" (Formal, or addressed to an older person)_

_**Wie ist deine freund?**__- "Who is your friend? (interchangeable with 'Boyfriend')_

_**Nein**__-No_

_**Warum Nicht? **__-Why Not?_

_**Wie gehts**__- "How are you?" (Informal)_

_**Opa**- Affectionate term for 'Grandpa'_

'_**Nacht**__- ('Night or short for 'Goodnight')_

_**Gasthof**- Inn, or small hotel_

_**König Fußball Kopf**__…- I'm not telling. You'll have to figure this one out, but it's really not that hard._

_I learned German as a child, and took it back up a few years ago, but I'm the first to admit, my German (much like my American Sign Language, Spanish, French, and occasionally English) grammar is crap. If I goofed, it let me know. Please and thank you._

_Moving on…I think that's about all. Oh! Entirely irrelevant point! My dad did the thing yesterday! Explanation: My mom and dad were heading off to the store, and I wasn't feeling well, plus, I just got off work, so I stayed home. Anyway, I watched them out the window, and my dad opened the door for my mom, closed it behind her and walked around the back of the car. He proceeded to watch her out of the back window, and came around only to tell her that she failed the test. It was hilarious! I've never seen the Bronx Tale thing done in real life; it was too cool. Anyway, I yell from my bedroom window, "I saw that!" And they both start to laugh. Unlike the movie, my parents are married, so he can't leave her on the side of the street. Besides the fact that my dad was currently locked out, they were also driving _her _car at the time. So, looks like mom had the upper hand either way. Ha-ha. My parents are so 'Big Bob ad Miriam' sometimes…in a good way._

_Okay, now I'm really done. Adios, muchachos!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	31. Chapter Ten of 'Ruthless'

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 30: Chapter Ten of 'Ruthless'**

_"I'll meet you where the earth meets the sun  
And the weather is warm because,  
The scene just seems so much nicer  
Way out there."_

_"You've got nothing to lose,  
I've got nothing to prove.  
Except a love for someone  
Just like you."_

"_**Come On, Come On"**_

_**Morgan Laurence**_

* * *

Helga grumbled as she woke, silently chastising herself for, once again, falling asleep with her arms over her head. It was a common practice for the blonde; at some point during the night, she'd try and stretch and in her exhaustion stay that way until she awoke. Waking up in such a position left her shoulder muscles in pain for the better part of the morning after.

Bringing her long arms to her side, Helga let out another low grumble of pain, and rolled over to her side, letting her arms spread underneath her. Her right arm fell upon something soft, warm, and slightly hairy, and immediately, she began rubbing the expanse of it, a smile forming on her face.

"Good girl…" she cooed, thinking of her little pink pig, who often climbed on her bed and lay next to her.

"Still don't think you're a 'mover'?"

Helga wrinkled her brow and stilled her hand on the soft, warm expanse of flesh, wondering suddenly why 'Strudel' was not grunting in reply and didn't smell suspiciously of cheese. Remembering where, when and with whom she fell asleep that night, Helga's eyes flew open. Unfortunately, her mouth did the same, all too soon, ready to give a reply to Arnold.

"No, I do not! And for your inform-" she began groggily, pushing herself up to face Arnold, only to find that she was talking directly to his foot. Looking down the bed, she found Arnold, clad in a wrinkly T-shirt and sweatpants, smiling at her, jokingly. "What are you doing down there?" she asked.

"I think I should be asking you that, oh Mobile One." he replied.

Sure enough, once Helga looked around the room, she found that everything was reversed, and she managed to move herself to the opposite end of the bed, all in one night.

"While you're down there, can I have a foot massage?" Arnold asked, bringing his foot up to Helga's nose.

Pushing the appendage aside, Helga propped herself up on her arms. "While you may have been right about my insatiable need to move at night," she began, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "You have to admit that I am not at all, a 'blanket hog'." Upon standing, Helga found her entire midsection encased in the thick comforter, that once covered herself and Arnold, while he was completely uncovered.

"Really?" he asked, knowing the argument was already won.

"Touche."

* * *

"So what are your plans for the day?" Arnold asked from his place on the bed. He managed to get himself dressed before Helga, even though she was able to get dressed, brush her teeth, do her hair and change her outfit twice by the time he pulled a shirt over his head.

Helga paused for a minute, pulling a navy polo on over the shirt she was already wearing. "Well," she began, facing away from Arnold. "I was going to help my grandmother out a little bit. I mean, they take great care of her here, but her place still needs a little dusting, and I was going to make sure all her, you know, payments were in order. Things like that." she said, biting her lip. "But, hey, there are so many cool things to do around here. There's this cove, out by the lake, and this cliff that all the kids used to jump off of, and it's got this one, magnificent tree. And I was thinking…I was thinking, maybe you could get some really good pictures. If you wanted." she finished, finding herself out of breath.

For a minute, Arnold sat and watched the exasperated Helga bite her lip and read off her mental notes of suggestions for his day's activities. Quickly, though she turned from him and inspected her shirt again, picking with them, until she tore the shirt off and threw it on a nearby chair. Ignoring the near flawless curve of her back and sliver of pale flesh that the upturned tank top revealed to him, Arnold stood, finally understanding Helga's speedy suggestions.

At that moment, she turned to face him again, this time a bright yellow shirt in her hand. "What?" she asked.

"Helga, did…did he control you _that _much?"

Both Arnold and Helga were aware just who "he" was. Shock registered on her face, partially because of the preposterous idea that anyone on the planet could actually control her, and also from the realization that maybe she finally allowed someone to do so. If ever the occasion made itself present, where Helga was asked to do something, without Derek's presence, his first reaction was to make her feel guilty for "leaving" him. Before, she was able to brush it off, citing that she was a fiercely independent being before Derek, and she had no reason to change now that she was with him. Eventually, though, he began wearing her down, eroding the sense of self-sufficiency she once held on to. Even when she did begin inviting him along, she found that he still grew upset at her if she ventured off away from him for too long. More often than not, she'd find herself strolling down the harbor, or walking around after a movie, with his arm wrapped around her waist, in an uncomfortable and somewhat forced embrace.

Regardless of whether or not Arnold hit the nail on the head, Helga didn't like that he could decipher the meaning behind her nervousness. Walking up to him, she raised her chin slightly and spoke. "Listen up, Paste For Brains: no one controls Helga Pataki, got that? And if ever, such a ridiculous notion should pass through your thick, football head again, I'll personally beat it out of you. Understand?"

Instead of staying before him and staring him down, Helga whipped around and resumed getting dressed. Angrily, she threw clothes into her back, only to snatch them out again. Behind her, Arnold smiled, and crossed his arms.

"Hey, Helga?"

"What?" she asked, harshly, immediately regretting her tone. Arnold didn't do anything to upset her; it was really her own ignorance that was bringing her mood down.

Arnold paused momentarily. He shook his head trying to reduce some of Helga's tension, and stop his own insane urge to blush. Stepping closer to her (which was doing nothing for the 'resist the inclination to blush' situation), he met her eyes, which were calmer now, but still held some of the old fire that he missed in her.

"Nothing, I just…I haven't seen you in a while." he stated, shrugging his shoulders.

"What are you on, Football face?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip, and relieving a tired sigh.

"I meant that, I haven't seen you, the real you, in a long time. I haven't seen you blow up, or get unnecessarily excited in weeks. I don't need t know why, I'm glad that whoever that was is gone, and Helga G. Pataki is back." he said, extending his arm and resting his hand under her bent elbow.

It took everything in Helga not to shudder, sigh and melt (in that order) at his warm touch. Keeping her eyes on his, she managed to smirk, instead of release a nervous chuckle, and step closer to him, as he did to her. "Well, if you're so glad to have the easily excitable and heavily armed Helga back, you'll be glad to know that Old Betsy and the Five Avengers are back as well. And they've had very little to do while on vacation." she smiled. She dropped her t-shirt and her smile when Arnold took her other elbow in his hands, and faced her, the look in his eyes calm, yet feral. Composed, but at the same time, crazed.

"By all means, Helga, how should I welcome them back?" he said, bringing his face dangerously close to hers.

"…" Before Helga could so much as form a coherent, or equally sensuous reply, the phone that she so carelessly shoved in her back pocket began to vibrate violently, the result being that she jumped that much closer to Arnold, wearing a look of utter fear and shock on her face. Her eyebrow wrinkled, unceremoniously, and her shoulders dropped. "Will you excuse me for just, one second?" Reluctantly, Helga stepped away from Arnold, all but crying at her missed opportunity and snatched the phone from her pocket to answer it.

"Yes? What is it?!" she asked, whispering harshly.

"Ouch. Did I interrupt something?" Robbie said, sounding jovial.

"In more ways than one. What do you want?"

"Well, I have good news and bad news, pertaining to your parent's party. Which do you want first?" he asked.

Helga rolled her eyes. She was hoping that the phone conversation would be short, but with Robbie, that was hardly a possibility. "Fine. Give me to good news first."

"Really? You want the good news first?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Yes."

"But, no one ever wants the good news first. People like to save it for last."

"Okay, fine then; give me the bad news."

"Well, don't take the bad news first just because everyone else does. Be your own person, Helga!" he exclaimed.

"Robert," Helga said, her tone becoming serious. "You may have very well ruined my entire trip with your little phone call. Now, if you don't tell me something, good, bad or evil, I will find you. And I will kill you. Understand me?"

"You're adorable. Did you know that?" he asked, laughing. "Alright, Cousin, here's the scoop. The good news is, I'll be singing at your dear parent's party next weekend!"

"Whoop-dee doo, Rob. If that's the good news, then, bring on the bad-"

"So are you."

"So am I, what?" Helga asked, quickly.

"I'm singing at your parents party. And so are you."

"No, I'm not."

"That's not what Olga says."

"In case you've been under a rock for the past 30 years, Olga is clinically insane. She probably told you that the sky was made up of Lucky Charms, too, didn't she?" Helga said.

"No, I figured that out this morning when I stuck my head out of my private jet and ate my breakfast at 30,000 feet in the air." Robbie said, returning Helga's sharp words. "What's the big deal' it's not like you're terrible, or anything."

"I just don't want to. And, how, pray tell, did she find out, anyway?" Helga asked suspiciously.

"Funny you should ask that." Robbie said. Helga heard some shuffling from his end of the phone, and surmised that he was seating himself to tell his clearly "hilarious" new story. "You know those 'Nanny Cams' that people install when they think the nanny is beating their kids?"

"Yeah, what about them?" Helga asked, mentally kicking herself for getting sucked into a long conversation with her insane cousin, about her insane sister, and missing out on prime lip-lock chance with Arnold.

"She's got them. All over the house."

"What? Why? Does she think I beat the twins, or something?" Helga said, the fire returning to her voice.

"Of course not. She knows how much you adore them. She's just crazy, is all." Robbie stated. "Either way, she's got three months of you, on camera, singing melodiously to her children, and she absolutely insisted that you be a part of the evening. A crucial part."

"I'd really rather not." Helga sighed.

"Feel free to take that up with her, upon your return. When are you coming back, by the way?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll call you later, Bobs."

"Later." he said, before ending the call.

Helga hung up the phone, her face gloomy, now, with the prospect of going home to a Bridezilla-esque sister, willing to make everyone in their lives bend over backward for the sake of her and their parents. At the same time, she was more than sure that Arnold, in all his stately glory, would find some way to make her feel infinitely better, in no time at all.

"Helga…" he called from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Did you brush your teeth already?"

Walking toward the door, she pulled it the rest of the way opened and spoke. "No, why?" Upon looking into the small bathroom, she saw her toothbrush by the sink, where she left it the night before and Arnold standing over the toilet, regretfully watching the tube of toothpaste bob up and down in the spotless, white bowl.

Her shoulders fell further, and she looked up at Arnold, smiling, despite herself.

"Sorry?" he offered, shrugging his wide shoulders.

Helga shook her head and turned back to their shared room. Yup. He still managed to lighten her mood.

* * *

"So, you don't want to sing in front of your family?" Arnold asked, exiting the room behind Helga and falling into stride next to her in the bleak, empty hallway.

"Of course not! I get nervous enough singing in front of you…yo…our friends. Besides, I'm much better behind the scenes." Helga commented.

Arnold scoffed, and offered Helga a playful push on the arm. He chuckled nervously, finding that he was using almost any excuse that he could to touch her. The two had yet to have a serious conversation, since their chat in the diner the day before, and he needed to find a way to get some of the tension away from him. He only hoped that his excursion alone today would help relieve him of that.

"Helga, I think we both know that you've never had a problem being in the limelight. It'll be fine." he assured her.

"Ever the optimist." Helga noted, stalling as they turned the corner and stood in front of the elevator. "So…what are you going to take pictures of?" she asked, nervously.

"I'm not sure. I usually don't like to plan what I'm going to photograph. If it comes to me, then it comes to me. It's only my job to capture it."

Helga stood in awe, and tried yet again not to swoon. She blinked and wondered how she managed to keep from doing so over the past few weeks. Maybe, she surmised, that she was so wrapped up in patching things up with Derek, that she momentarily forgot how strong Arnold's hold was on her. "That was really romantic." she sighed, breaking her 'No Swooning' promise.

Arnold looked down at her and smiled, and only then did she realize what she said.

"I meant 'poetic'!" she exclaimed. "That was very poetic. I meant to say 'poetic'…I meant to say 'poetic', but I said, 'romantic'," she continued. "They're kind of alike…I mean, they both end in '-tic'. And when I say 'tic', I mean the suffix, not the…bug." she said, scratching her arm, anxiously. How did she manage to make such a fool of herself in such a short period of time?

"I had a feeling that's what you meant." Arnold said, as the elevator doors opened before them, and they both stepped in. Helga remained straight-faced, berating herself inwardly for her words. Turning to face Arnold she wanted to try again.

"After I finish helping out my grandma…and you take a few pictures, we could have lunch?" she half-asked.

"Are you asking me?" he said, toying with her.

"It's just a suggestion, Football head, if you don't want to, we don't have to." she retorted.

"That'd be nice." he said, nodding, next to her. "We could even have a picnic."

"Picnics are fun." Helga said, before turning away and rolling her own eyes at herself. "So, where do you want to meet?'

"I can just swing by your grandmother's room. Around one o'clock?" he asked, holding the elevator door open for her. Helga nodded and waved as she exited the device, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Standing back, and waiting for the elevator doors to close, Arnold shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the erratic and amazing thoughts swirling in his head. Before he could register what happened, a tiny, weathered hand, came in between the converging doors, forcing them back open. Before him stood Helga, all traces of nervousness gone from her face, replaced by her casual smirk, which she wore all too well.

She stepped up to him, closer than they had been in the room, closer than they had been in months, and whispered.

"Just so you know…Pataki women do not tolerate truancy."

"I'll be sure to remember that, Miss Pataki." Arnold said, bringing his voice down, but only lowering his chin to her face. He stared at her menacingly, knowing better than to attempt to break her gaze.

"Good." she said, simply, holding her ground. In the time it took for the elevator bell to ding, signifying that the doors were, once again, closing, Helga managed to stand straight up, plant a soft, simple kiss on Arnold's unsuspecting lips and whirl away. Blinking rapidly, Arnold watched her saunter away, pausing only to remark, "See you at one o'clock", before the doors closed behind her and he was left, yet again, to further ponder and torture himself regarding Helga.

* * *

"Oma, It looks like you have everything up to date and in order." Helga said, replacing her grandmother's forms and bills in the wicker basket next to her modest breakfast table. "I feel like you don't even need me anymore." she joked.

"Don't be silly." her grandmother said, pushing an intricately carved glass bowl toward Helga, filled with cellophane wrapped coffee candy. Eagerly, Helga reached over and took a piece from the bowl, impatiently unwrapping it, and popping the delicacy in her mouth. When she was much younger, her grandmother would fill her pockets with coffee candy, and she would eat them on the ride home. Upon entering adolescence, Helga was sorely disappointed that real coffee did not always taste like her grandmother's never ending supply of coffee candy. Whenever she tried to make her coffee taste like the tiny morsels from her childhood, she would always come glaringly close, but there was something special about Lady V's coffee candy, that she could never match.

"I will always need you." Lady V said, taking Helga's empty hand in hers. Helga squeezed, and smiled tightly, relishing the taste of the candy and her grandmother's presence. "Where is your friend today?"

Helga blinked. "He's spending the day taking a few pictures. He's a really great photographer. But, we're meeting for lunch around one o'clock." Helga tried to smile, but since she woke up she was fighting her less inhibited, impulsive side for favor of a more thought out approach. Unfortunately, everything that she tried to plan out just gave her a headache.

"Are you unhappy about this?"

"Of course not, I just…have a lot to think about." Helga said, nodded.

"Like what you should wear?" her grandmother asked innocently. Helga narrowed her gaze and smiled at the woman across from her. Whenever she looked at her parents and wondered where her fire and cleverness came from, she only had to look a little further down the family tree to a Mrs. Veronika Pataki, and the mystery was over. Whether or not she was the kindest woman alive (Helga was certain that she was), Helga caught the meaning behind her words. Lady V hardly, if ever chastised Helga, but when she did it was often about the dirty pink converses, and dark jeans that she was almost always wearing. Helga looked down and found that she was currently wearing both.

"I suppose that is somewhat of an issue…" Helga began, taking another piece of candy. "But, that's probably the problem that's easiest to solve right now."

"The chest. In the corner. Offen, bitte."

Helga shifted from her position on the floor, amongst her grandmother's scattered and already paid bills, and crawled to the wooden chest in the corner of her spacious parlor. The lid opened with a creak and a few particles of dust littered the air around the open trunk. Wilted tissue paper covered the contents of the box, and carefully, Helga peeled it away until a soft, light green organza lay before her, covering the expanse of the chest.

Helga gasped, hardly realizing what she was looking at. "Is this…"

"Yes." her grandmother said quietly, sitting back in her comfortable armchair, as Helga gently lifted the gown out of the chest. It fell to the floor in what seemed like an endless train of fabric; shimmering and reflecting light green and white. The neckline was a deep "V"-appropriately so, Helga mused-and ended at a flawless empire waist that Helga knew didn't make her grandmother look pregnant.

"Oma, it's _perfect_." she sighed, setting it aside gently.

"It's you." she said, simply, smiling to herself.

"What?"

"You should have it."

Helga began frantically shaking her head, alternating her shocked gaze from her grandmother to the dress before her. "I can't." she gasped. "It's,…that's…your wedding dress?"

Helga had never seen her grandmother's dress up close. After Lady V moved to the nursing home, some of her clothes and other things were put into storage, and Helga got a glimpse of some of her grandmother's clothing. She kept impeccable care of her most treasured items, but Helga figured that the coveted green gown from her wedding was either packed away where no one could find it or sold and lost forever.

"Well," Lady V began, inching herself up from her chair. "You have until tomorrow to decide." She gingerly found a place on the floor next to Helga and dug a little deeper into the chest, and pulled out another wrapped garment. "now, I think this will do…"

* * *

Arnold sat one of his cameras down on the ground beside him, and took in the shade and the scenery. With him, he carried a plain point-and-shoot camera, that he received as a present a few years back when his interest in photography was new. It was relatively old, but it worked well enough, and was good for quick snapshots. The next camera was his trusty SLR, practically new and still shining. He saved up for eight months to purchase it, and so far, it had yet to disappoint him. The biggest of his three cameras was a late-model film camera, similar to his SLR, but with far less capabilities. He liked using it because, even though the prints from film cameras were harder to develop, the results were always satisfying. When he came home smelling of developer, and his eyes out of focus from the darkroom at school, he was still proud of his pictures, because when they came out as flawlessly as he planned, he knew it was because he worked hard for them. The gratification was far from instant, but it was rewarding.

Another feature of film photography that he preferred was it's permanence and ability to reveal what few people could see. With digital photography, there was too much wiggle room; too many ways that a photo could be changed. A film-developed photo could have the color changed, darkened or lightened. Little else could be done to truly distort the image. It was harder to hide from film. Arnold looked at negatives and respected them for what they were. "I am what I am" they said to him, and he had no response but to take it, or leave it.

For the hundredth time that day, Arnold's mind drifted back to Helga. She was very much the same as those dark, brown transparent negatives in his side bag. When under pressure, as it were, she reacted in the only fashion that she knew how; the one that was most natural to her, and even when it infuriated him, he could do little else but work with what he was given. And if, by some strange occurrence, Helga's mood took a sudden and gleeful shift, he was usually so astonished by it, that he was too humbled to take credit for it.

He remembered the day he nearly blew up at Derek; when all the prints under his enlarger came out red. He was on the brink of insanity, and he swore, over and over, that if another print came out red, he was going to give up on the project altogether and take the failing grade he was almost certain that he deserved. Carrying his last print out of the darkroom, he was more than elated when it was…green. He didn't know why it was green, or how it became green, but it was. When he stepped back into the darkness and tried it again, it didn't work. He realized then, that forcing it would do little good. By some chance, his print just worked.

Approaching Helga much the same way, he remembered the print and smiled. Helga could be forced to do nothing. When it seemed like she succumbed to pressure, it would manifest itself only as her impulse to do something, and whether or not you wanted her to, the result was usually so pleasing that no one could take the credit away from her.

Glancing at his watch, Arnold began heading back to the apartment complexes, ready to meet Helga for their lunch. In a few moments however, his pensive mood became somewhat dark. The thought of Derek, of all people, even thinking that he had some kind of hold over Helga infuriated him. What gave Derek the right to think that Helga owed him anything at all? He wondered why, at the first sign of Derek's possessive nature, did Helga not immediately back off and break up with him altogether.

'_Technically she has._' a voice in his head answered back.

'_Actually, she hasn't._' Another voice replied, and instead of wondering where the voices were coming from, Arnold further pondered his situation. Helga wasn't really broken up from Derek, though form the way the mini-vacation was falling together, the end was certainly near. Her 'Venus de Milo' comment from the day before still hung with him, and he couldn't help but find absolute truth in her words.

A little break was good now and then.

A _bigger _break was turning out to be pretty amazing.

Arnold resolved to put his sour mood behind him, and enjoy the remainder of the day with Helga. As he entered the building and turned a few corners to relocate her grandmother's room, he banished all thoughts of Derek and focused on having a long, serious, but not too heavy conversation with the ever elusive Helga.

When he finally found the room, he tapped on the door gently, listening as quiet footsteps grew nearer and nearer. He knew that Helga was in there with her 'Oma', but the footsteps were too subdued to belong to her. When the door finally opened, slowly, but surely, he smiled upon seeing Lady V standing before him, a light pink cardigan tied around her shoulders.

When his eyes drifted back into the room however, he was rendered entirely speechless.

* * *

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Footballhead."

"Well, you are wearing white, after all." Arnold replied, quicker than his usual retorts. Instead of a sneer, or even a half-hearted, "Touche", he found Helga laughing and lifting herself up from her place on the floor. She was surrounded by books and albums, and from the yellowed pictures on the page that she was staring at when he entered, he figured that it was more of her grandmother's things that she stumbled across.

She was wearing white, alright, and he could barely help from staring at her. Once she stood, he noticed that t he lightweight, white sundress barely grazed her knees, the cotton material hugging her long midsection and billowing out from there. The straps were thin and the neckline came to a perfect semi-circle under her collarbone. On anyone else, with any other figure, the dress would have been classless, even tacky. But with Helga's lithe form, the perfect fusion of toned muscles and feminine curves, it seemed as though the dress was tailored for her.

Helga waved him over to look at the album with her, as she lifted it from the ground. He couldn't help but noticed that despite the pristine white dress eh wore, on her feet were her same, favorite pink Converses, dirty with grime and grass stains, and loved all the same.

She pointed to a Polaroid of a younger looking Lady Veronika, sitting on a rocking chair on an unidentifiable, grey-painted porch. Next to her was a young girl, no more than fifteen or sixteen, wearing bright blue and smiling as if her face were about to split. Arnold didn't need many clues to know that the young woman was Olga, looking spotless and entirely happy. On the lap of her grandmother, however sat a small child, dressed in a ridiculously frilly dress, and hair up in two identical pigtails. Instead of looking at the camera, like the other occupants of the photo, she's looking up into her grandmother's face, in absolute, childlike awe. Her chubby little arm is outstretched and her tiny fingers barely graze her grandmother's chin.

Arnold surmised that this has always been how Helga has seen her grandmother. In awe and the utmost respect.

"We're gonna head out now. Do you need me to get you anything?" Helga asks, laying the recently closed album back on the shelf. Lady V shakes her head and points to the corner.

"No, meine liebchen, I am fine. But that basket, over there, could you get that for me?"

In an instant, Helga is across the room, and back, carrying a light brown basket to the feet of her grandmother. AS Lady V opens it, Helga asks her what is inside. "Your lunch." she answered, simply, rummaging through the content of the basket.

"Oma! Nein-" Helga begins, before a look passes over Lady V's eyes that immediately shuts Helga up. Never before has Arnold seen the frail woman look so stern, and he has certainly never seen anyone reduce Helga to silence so quickly.

"Du bist zu dünn…" she says, the smile making it's way back to her face.

"Others would disagree, Oma." Helga says, returning the smile. "Thank you." she says, standing and taking the food, before bending and leaving a kiss on both of her grandmother's cheeks. I'll see you later." Arnold did the same, feeling a sort of connection with the old woman over the past twenty-four hours.

"Have a good lunch, meine liebchen." She said, as Helga slowly closed the door behind her.

As the two teens descended down the hallway, Arnold practiced his pronunciation of the astounding three words of German he managed to pick up while in the presence of Helga and Lady Veronika. He stops only when Helga asks him what he's trying to say, in the language.

"I was trying to figure out what 'zoo done' means." he said, crudely trying to remember the pronunciation of the words that were so quickly spoken a few moments before.

"'Du bist zu dünn…'" Helga repeats, smiling. "She thinks I'm too thin." she says, shrugging, knowing better than to take offense to anything her grandmother tells her. As a Pataki woman, Helga was very aware of her genetic makeup: Speak first, tact and loving concern comes later.

"Oh." Arnold replied. "Well, why did you say that 'people think otherwise'? Who has ever said that?"

"Nobody important. Come on, I'm starving."

* * *

"I'm stuffed."

"You did have three slices of coffee cake."

"So? You had two."

"But, three is more than two." Arnold stated.

"But, one of your slices was really, really big, and thus equals one of my slices. Technically, you had three slices too." Helga said, shifting her position slightly. She leaned back against a tree, planted a few feet from the edge of the cove, on a grassy knoll. The day was bright, and mostly clear and the water of the vast lake actually looked blue, for a change. It was early dawn, the sun had only begun to set below the horizon, but night was still well off.

"Why do I bother to debate with you. I'm clearly no competition."

"It's about time you recognized my genius." Helga said, smiling, as she gathered what meager trash the to accumulated and replaced it in the wicker basket.

"So…" Arnold began, sitting up himself, looking somewhat less jovial than before.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"Whenever you start a sentence with 'So…', it means we're going to have a long and excruciatingly awkward conversation." Helga answered, her shoulders falling.

"Well, seeing as you already know where this is headed, maybe it won't be long. And I was aiming for painfully awkward, if you don't mind." he joked.

"Alright. What would you like to discuss?" she asked, knowing exactly what they would be talking about, anyway.

"We're headed back home tomorrow, right?" Arnold asked, leaning back and supporting his hand on the soft ground below him.

"That we are."

"So, what happens once we get there?" he asked, turning to face her.

For once, Helga didn't feel like answering back with a witty comment, or side-stepping the issue with a funny joke. She contemplated, before the two even arrived, how the return home would be. The tiny sliver of her mind that inherited Arnold's optimism from his presence alone, wanted desperately to believe that Derek would sense what was happening, and would leave her be, wishing her all the happiness in the world. At the same time, Helga knew her conscience to lean toward being realistic, and with Derek's behavior over the past few weeks, she knew that the reception would be drastically different, whether or not Derek found out that Arnold accompanied her on her trip.

"I really don't know, Arnold." Helga replied, finally, tapping an index finger on her small, bare kneecap. Her gaze drifted off, and despite the sad look in her eyes, Arnold noticed a bit of a smile on her sun-kissed face. "I came here to clear my head; get away from a few things. I felt like I had every possible problem in the world on my shoulders, and anytime I thought I escaped from them, they just came back.

"But, since I've been here-with you- I…" she began, trailing off. "…Do you remember that time, in the fourth grade? When Mr. Simmons kept us after school on the first day of Spring Break, and there was a flood?"

Arnold nodded in recognition. Some details from the evening were fuzzy, but he remembered just about all of it. "Yeah."

"Well, I remember everyone freaking out when Mr. Simmons was on the roof, and then, well, my mind gets cloudy, but it seems like a minute later, I'm in the water. And I don't remember how I get there, but suddenly I'm drowning. And, I call out your name, and a rope comes out of nowhere to save me.

And, even though, the rope could break, or you guys could lose your grip, and it's still flooding…I just feel really safe. That's kind of how I feel when I'm here, with you. My life is still chaotic, Arnold. I still have things to handle and problems to deal with. But, I feel alright, right now. It's still flooding, Arnold. But, I'm not drowning."

When she finally returned her gaze back to where Arnold was sitting, somewhat shocked to find him close enough to her that the setting sun did nothing in comparison to the heat that his body was giving off. Sensing where any physical contact would lead, Helga cleared her throat and spoke.

"Do you wanna see something?" she asked, catching the hidden connotation much later, and hoping that Arnold wouldn't catch it at all.

"Sure." he breathed, looking fairly star struck himself, and it was as if Helga's words knocked him out of a trance, of sorts.

"Cool." Helga said, gathering up the near-empty basket and standing. She extended her hand to Arnold, to help him up and said, simply, "Follow me."

He took her hand and stood, a smile appearing on his face when he noticed that long after he stood next to her, she left her hand in his and even went so far as to offer him a gentle squeeze.

"where are we going?" he finally asked when they began advancing farther down the cove.

"You'll see."

* * *

_"Come on! Come on! We'll keep running til' we burn out the sun, sun...  
And make our way down every street til' we get back home."_

* * *

_Yay! I really like this chapter, which is strange, because…it's not all that great. I really needed to write something though, this week has been horrible for me. From work, and dealing with men who could be old enough to be my father making less than discreet comments toward me, to these same old geezers being entirely disrespectful to one of my clients, to having to call my boss and write them up (did I mention I have to got to an employee meeting in an hour, after which I have to meet with aforementioned boss and relay the entire incident to him? It's gonna be great). So, given my week, I think an update is in order._

_Harbour Master…you're awesome. I just had to say that. You completely turned my Wednesday around, and even thought Thursday SUCKED royally, I still love all your little messages. Rock on, Pirate-Lady. Oh, and Arnold's Love, did you notice the shout out? Debate. No Competition. I'm so sneaky. How are you carrots, love?_

_Okay, here's the scoop, people. I was thinking and thinking about my chapter 28, and the part where Helga says "Wizard of Skankdom" and "slut magic" (the response to that line alone was overwhelming! I had no idea you guys would like it so much!), and I kept thinking, "I think I've heard that somewhere before." Because, sometimes, I have these moments of being a really, really halfway decent writer, and even then, I don't think I could come p with something as brilliant as "slut magic". So, I looked through all my books and movies that I've watched in the past few years, and, I was right. I didn't invent the term "slut magic". If you go to **Youtube**, and type in "Ryan Reynolds and Anna Faris in Waiting" (type I those exact words, or just copy and paste it from here), you will get a three minute clip from the movie "Waiting" (it's about a group of people who work in a restaurant…get it? Because they're 'waiters') and it's totally funny. Warning, I saw this movie as soon as I turned 17; the movie is rated R, so there's some language to beware of. But, that's apparently where I got it. Oh well._

_Alright, I'm off to work. Go me._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	32. Sleeping With the Enemy

_A/N: I've just read the first part of a oneshot that I started before going to bed a night or two ago. It makes no sense. There are many typos. And yet, here I am again, in the middle of the night, trying to write The Compromise. I apologize in advance. Oh, and a warning: my "e" button is acting funny. I have to press it super hard to make it work. So, if any of my typos are really just words, missing an "e" then….yeah. Thanks!_

* * *

"_Appreciate, Validate_

_Sleeping with the enemy._

_Honest, honest, honest;_

_This is the way we play._

_Appreciate, Validate_

_Sleeping with the enemy._

_Honest, honest, honest;_

_This is the way we play…"_

_The White Tie Affair_

_-'The Enemy'_

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 31: Sleeping With the Enemy**

* * *

"So…this is exciting."

"I don't know what's happened. They've usually started by now." Helga said, her hands firmly set against her hips and her body turned toward the vast lake ahead of them. She stared out into the horizon confused, but more importantly, she was impatient. The sun was already beginning to set, and she wasn't even sure from what direction the fireworks were supposed to be coming. "Come on; let's move further down the shore."

"Why?" Arnold asked, following along, just the same.

"I don't think he's setting them off from here. I think I was a bit further down last time." she said, watching the sand compact and mold around her feet as she walked over it. She stained the whit sundress in the sand earlier in the day and was content with brushing off what blemishes she could and ignoring the ones she could not.

"Who shoots off these fireworks, anyway? And why? Is it a holiday around here?" Arnold asked, bringing himself to look at Helga, even though she didn't grant him the same courtesy.

"I'm not sure when it began. The guy, who owns the lake, just started doing it one day. A lot of people say that his wife drowned in this lake, and he does it in her honor every year. If you ask me, I think there's just some rich guy, who's got some time, money and gunpowder to burn."

"Your cynicism is surprisingly refreshing."

"As is your impeccable grammar. I salute you." Helga replied, chancing to steal a glance, and hoping that Arnold would be looking back. She thanked the darkening sky that partially hid her wide grin and reddened cheeks from view. The two chuckled nervously and continued down the shore, assured that they were headed in the right direction, only by the scattered onlookers sitting upon the sand, no doubt waiting for the fireworks to begin. Helga turned around when an eager voice reached her ears, and found a woman sitting in a large arm chair next to a man and young girl. A small bonfire separated the three and various coolers and umbrellas littered the sand around them. Tapping Arnold on the arm, she alerted him to the family, hoping that they weren't in trouble, and made her way over, with Arnold in tow.

"Is everything okay?" Arnold asked a stride behind Helga.

"Of course, we just need a picture taken." the woman said, ecstatically. Helga imagined that she was calling out to passersby for quite some time, and was just happy that someone granted her request. Arnold nodded and took the camera from the woman, while the family stood and posed for the shot.

After the flash went off, Arnold handed the camera back and smiled when they reviewed the picture right away (a habit that sometimes annoyed him with people who were generally more temperamental regarding their photos) and grinned excitedly about it. He and Helga turned to leave, when they were summoned back.

"Are you waiting for the fireworks to start, too?" the portly man asked, still standing, while the rest of his family eased back down to a sitting position. Even in the waning daylight, Helga could tell that he was wearing an otherwise obnoxious hibiscus-print vacation shirt. She identified them immediately as tourists, and found that (surprisingly) she wasn't annoyed by them, only amused. Her demeanor was far less volatile when she was in Arnold's presence. Even so, she smiled and nodded, in reply. "Why don't you watch it with us? We've got more than enough marshmallows to go around."

Helga looked to Arnold, and shrugged. In her mind, there was no harm in accepting the invitation; they didn't seem like cannibals to her, and she was never one to turn down an offer of free food. In turn, Arnold nudged her forward, and the two took a seat amongst the strangers.

"So, what are your names?" The woman asked, after the food was dispensed. She was rather large, but jovial all the same, and aside from the matching shirt that her husband wore, seemed pretty harmless. The young girl that sat between Helga and the girl's father had stringy brown hair, and looked as though she was roped into the vacation, but caught herself having a good time every now and then.

"I'm Arnold, and this is Helga." Arnold told them, bringing his hand down on Helga's forearm and leaving it there as he asked the family their names. Helga shuddered over the tightening of her stomach that occurred anytime she maintained physical contact with Arnold for more than a few seconds. In any other situation it would have been a bother, but she actually found herself welcoming it.

"How nice." The man said, extending his hand, and causing Arnold to separate from Helga to shake it. "I'm Carl, this is my wife Caroline and this is our daughter Carlie." he explained.

"That's amazing." Helga said, a mix of shock and confusion in her voice.

"You wouldn't think so if it were you." Carlie said, looking far less excited. At the same time, she was more than used to the joke, and knew better than to take offense over it.

"At least no one can confuse you for your parents. My older sister's name is eerily similar to mine. I can't help but think it was done on purpose." Helga explained.

"That stinks. I bet your parents mix up your names a lot." Carlie said, laughing.

"Something like that."

"What brings you out here?" Carl asked, stirring the fire and causing tiny embers to fly up between the congregated group.

"We're visiting my grandmother for a few days." Helga answered.

"How nice." Caroline said. Helga raised an eyebrow, wondering if Caroline thought that everything was 'nice'. "And how long have _you _two been together?"

Had either Helga or Arnold been eating, whatever food they were consuming would have been forcefully and speedily ejected through their noses, before they were even aware of it. Both sat perfectly still, the only clues to their shock being their expressions; Helga's mouth made a tiny "O" and Arnold's eyes merely shifted from Helga to the members of the family that they encountered.

"Oh…" Helga finally managed to spit out. "Umm…we…oh…" she began, before Arnold interjected.

"Actually…not very long." he answered, nodding as if he'd been practicing the line all week. Helga resisted the urge to snap her head at him and ask what was going on.

Caroline brought a hand to her chest, in shock. "Really? You two seem so….natural together."

"Well, we've known each other for a very long time." Helga stuttered, trying to play along. "Actually, up until very recently, Arnold was dating someone else…" At this point, Arnold discreetly turned to stare at Helga, who smiled innocently. He instantly remembered her addition to their little lie back in New York. She always did hate to be left out. "You remember, right? The girl you were dating…I think her name was 'Dee'?"

Arnold nodded, sneaking a hand around Helga's waist, and gently pinching the arm farthest away from him. To the family of spectators, it probably looked like a very loving gesture, but Arnold sought only retribution for bringing the tiniest hint of truth to their fun, new lie. "Oh, yes. 'Dee'. I remember."

"Dee, huh?" Carl asked, suddenly interested. "What was she like?"

"She was…a very nice girl…" Helga began before Arnold interjected.

"She was terrible." Arnold stated. Helga gave him a look that, to anyone else, would have looked like mild chiding. In reality, she understood Arnold's statement and continued. "What I mean is…our temperaments were very similar. Almost too similar. It was a bad match from the start." Arnold finished, smiling.

"She wasn't that bad…" Helga said, shaking her head at Arnold's antics. He somehow started a harmless lie, and forced her to take it over.

"So, how'd you finally get with Arnold? Did you punch her or something?" Carlie asked, laughing. The fireworks were long forgotten, as Arnold and Helga's tale managed to capture everyone's attention.

"No, I never punched her. Things just happened on their own, I guess. I figured if Arnold was happy, then I could be happy too." Helga said, watching as Arnold moved closer to her. Part of her honestly wished that their tale turned out as such. She wanted to know that, had she the patience to wait for Arnold, that he would have com around all by himself, Derek or not. She quietly sighed, knowing that this sliver of doubt was the only thing keeping her from making her decision right then and there. She wondered what would happen when they returned home, and she told Derek of the choice she made nearly twenty-four hours ago; that the two would _not _be getting back together at all. Did Arnold's attentions come only from the threat of Derek having something that he didn't? What would happen to them when the forbidden fruit was suddenly permissible?

Brushing her thoughts aside, as she was very used to, Helga snaked an arm around Arnold's waist and looked out over the lake when she saw something flash out over the water.

"They started!" Carlie called out, pointing to the bright green lights exploding in the sky.

Helga smiled and tried to concentrate, but the emerald lights over them didn't hold a candle to the eyes that she knew were staring her down and trying to decipher her thoughts. After a few minutes of cooing over the fireworks, the family seemed to remember their guests.

"I'm sorry dear, " Caroline said, attempting to shout over the crackling of the explosives. "What ever happened to that 'Dee' girl?"

Helga smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? She's probably up on a mountain somewhere…"

* * *

"Well, _I_ had a good night."

Reggie and Alex rolled their eyes consecutively and returned to their bowls of stale cereal and ilk. Neither of them were fully awake; they did have a night made mostly of partying and could barely remember their names by the time they retired to their rooms. Regardless, they both awoke with the same disdain for Viola Cooke that they went to bed with.

"Yeah." Reggie said, not meeting her eyes. "We _heard_."

Viola placed a hand over her mouth, bashfully. "Oh dear; I'm so embarrassed." She instantly shed her demeanor and took a seat across the table from the two boys. They both stared intently at their food, and in turn, she initiated the conversation. "So…what happened to Derek this morning?" she asked coyly.

"He's gone."

"Gone?" she asked, her voice cracking. This wasn't part of the plan, exactly, but, Viola knew a lot better than to get sidetracked by one little misstep in her plan. "Gone where?"

"We don't know. He took the earliest train back home that he could find, without telling anyone. What do _you _know about this?" Alex asked.

"_Me_? Why on earth would _I_ know what Derek's thinking?"

"Look." Reggie began, setting down his spoon. "All I know is that Derek cam here to get his mind straight over Helga and whatever is going on between them, and I know that you showing up didn't do anything to help."

"Well, I'm sure that the Derek we all know and love will make the right decision. I've never seen him do otherwise…." she said, slipping from the table and back into Derek's old room. Fishing through her bag, she retrieved her cell phone and dialed a number that she almost forgot that she know by heart.

"Hello?" she asked into the phone once it was picked up. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Look, I need your help with something…"

* * *

"You're walking like you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"Are you sure? Did you have any of Caroline's special punch?"

"The punch wasn't special, and I'm not drunk. I'm just really sleepy." Helga groaned, rubbing her had and making a mess of her hair. She slumped against the building and slid down to the ground, resting her head on her chest, hoping that it was just dark enough that none of the security guards would think that they were escaped octogenarians, and attempt to detain them. Arnold pulled the key-card out of his pocket and slid it in and out of the sensor quickly to make the door open. Helga closed her eyes and waited to hear the 'beep' that signaled that they could enter.

"Uh oh."

Cracking an eyelid, Helga looked up at Arnold and replied groggily. "Is that a good 'Uh oh' or a bad 'Uh oh'?"

"Is 'Uh oh' ever good?" Arnold asked, trying the annoying card reader again. "It's not working."

Helga stood, and wobbled over and tried inserting the card herself. Even in her tired state, she could tell that it was neither her, nor Arnold at fault for the stubborn card reader. Moving so that the nearest streetlight would illuminate the card, Helga read the back print, tiny as it was.

_"In an attempt to ensure the safety of our esteemed residents, The Govey Leigh Retirement Community for Active Seniors will be locking its resident and guest quarters at 8 PM. Access is not permitted by key entry until 7 AM in the morning, the following morning."_ Helga pocketed the card and sighed.

"That's stupid." Arnold commented,

"I know. 'AM' means 'ante meridiem' or 'before noon', so it's pointless to say '7 AM _in the morning_'." Helga replied, shaking her head and placing a hand on her hip. When she met Arnold's gaze in the barely there lighting of the evening, she smiled and added, "Oh yeah and the whole, 'locked out' thing. Yes. Very stupid."

"What do you think we should do?" Arnold asked, after rolling his eyes. Helga could barely contain herself when a grammatical error was afoot.

"I guess we need to find a place to sleep. There aren't any motels around, and I have a feeling that going back to the beach might mean out lives."

"Why?"

"I try not to contemplate the various ways that my life would end, but I'd rather leave 'eaten by cannibalistic tourists' off the list, if you don't mind." Helga stated. "There must be somewhere that we can stay; I can't trust myself to drive all day tomorrow on no sleep."

"Aren't there lawn chairs out by the pool?" Arnold asked. A lawn chair was the last place he wanted to sleep, but he understood that both he and Helga needed a good night's rest. He also surmised that Helga, who managed to turn herself around completely in the course of one night, could probably sleep anywhere.

"The pool is gated, and it's probably locked by now." Helga said, as thunder rolled overhead. Before she could register what happened, a few raindrops dotted her forehead and arms, and Helga turned to Arnold, already squinting. "If we run, we can make it to the car, and drive around. Something has to be open…" she said, feeling slightly optimistic, despite the fact that the two were locked out of their place of lodging, it was raining and she was wearing white. Both of them began running to where the car happened to be-or where they thought it was, arriving in two different parking lots-and finally found it, only after the pitter-patter of rain began falling in torrents that nearly blinded them both. Upon arriving at the car, Helga threw open the door of the backseat and jettisoned herself inside, while Arnold climbed in behind her. Once the door was closed, the only sounds that were heard came from the pounding of the rain outside and Arnold and Helga trying to catch their breaths.

Every so often a bolt of lightning would light up the sky and subsequently, the interior of the car. It was then that Helga noticed that rain was coming into the car, through the rolled-down windows of the driver and passenger windows. Without thinking, Helga sat up and tried to roll the windows up, leaning over the console that divided the front half of the car from the back half, to do so. Once accomplished, she pressed her hands to the driver and passenger seats to find that they were both soaked. Sitting, back she sighed, and held her hand out to Arnold. Instead of taking it, Arnold's eyes darted from her, to her open hand, wondering what she wanted from him.

"The keys?" she said, further extending her hand toward him.

"I thought you had them." Arnold replied.

"Look at me. Do I look like I have a place to carry a car key?' Helga asked, tilting her head. Without thinking, Arnold's eyes scanned Helga, in her seated position next to him. The dress was nearly soaked through and hugged every line on her body. The hem clung to her thighs indiscreetly, and even though Helga kept her arms pressed to her sides, he could still see the folds of fabric layered under her clothes. "If you could direct your drooling gaze northward, that'd be perfect." Helga said, hardly keeping a smile off of her own face.

Arnold turned away and smiled as well, remembering the first time he heard that statement. "Well, you did tell me to look…"

Shaking her head, Helga changed the subject. The burning in her stomach did little to actually warm the interior of the car. "So, it looks like we're stuck in this car, with no way of moving or turning on the heat. Well this is just dandy." Helga said, turning in her seat to remove her soaked shoes. Arnold followed in stride, before beckoned to lean forward by Helga. She followed suit, and turned in the seat to pull the back of the seat toward her, granting access to the compact trunk of her old car. Pulling out a blanket as well as an old coat, Helga pushed the seat back in place and offered the blanket to Arnold.

Pulling on the thin jacket, Helga looked up and smiled as she zipped it up. "Don't look so disappointed, Arnoldo. You're already sharing a backseat with me." she joked.

"What exactly are you implying, Miss Pataki?" Arnold asked, spreading the coverlet over himself and Helga equally.

"All I know is, drywall doesn't magically fall out of the sky like that."

"You're giving yourself a little too much credit, Helga. I'm a red-blooded, American teenage boy, and you're a soaking wet, teenage girl, wearing white and sitting a foot away from me. What do you expect me to do?" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Helga rolled her eyes and managed a playful smack against his soaked shoulder. "Good night, Perv."

"Goodnight."

* * *

_I'm actually kind of happy. My "e" button is working now (unfortunately my "c" button is acting up, but I don't use that as much as "e"), which is good, because if I knew it wasn't working, it kind of made writing frustrating, and I found myself avoiding it because I hate slamming on one letter at random intervals. Also, even though this is a filler chapter (and not even a good filler chapter, at that), I kind of like it. Plus, I started a Color class yesterday, and we were talking about how color impacts everything in our lives and for our first project, I'm taking the outfits of Hey Arnold's main characters and breaking down their personalities by the colors that they wore in the series. It's actually pretty interesting. _

_I know a lot of people (cough, cough, HB, cough) were happy to see that Derek didn't make an appearance in the last chapter, and I'm sorry that he's thrown in here, but I hope that this clears things up a little bit regarding what's going on atop that mountain. I'm so excited for Helga and Arnold to get back home, because things start to get fun again!_

_I wrote out the summaries for the next to chapters, and I'm thinking this story might exceed 40 chapters, which is ridiculous. At the same time, I'm kind of loving it, and I'm not in the mood for chopping out anything important for the sake of a shorter story. Hopefully my once a month reviews will continue and I can finish relatively quickly. Oh and, by the way, I just read 'Ruthless' and…it's bloody horrible. It really is. There are some nuggets of goodness thrown in there but, it's mostly just awful. I threw in Author's Notes in the middle of the story. I had no knowledge of how to use a comma. It's bad. I should do something about that, but I probably won't. It's the truth._

_Okay, that's all from me. I have to get ready for work (BLAH!) so, toodles!_

_-Pointy_O_

_P.S. I almost forgot! There's a line in this chapter, that Helga says: "If you could direct your drooling gaze northward, that'd be perfect." I've used it in another one of my stories. If you can tell me specifically where it was used (in the otehr story, by the way) and in what situation, I will answer ANY question you have, regarding this story. Really. Anything. You can even ask me how this whole things ends, and I'll tell you. But, it'll be in a PM, because if, by some chance, you do want a huge spoiler, I won't go ruining it for everyone else. Please and Thank you!!_


	33. Those Times

This is entirely irrelevant to my story, but I TOTALLY just found an episode of Hey Arnold on my computer. "Helga's Makeover" and "The Old Building". I'll be back in 23 minutes.

Quote of the Chapter: "Why are we wearing these?! We're already taller than the boys!"

Oh, and this is going to be a short chapter. Thanks. And, I rarely, if ever put a disclsimer, but I don't own hey Arnold. Okay, carry on.

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 32: Those Times**

* * *

Needless to say, Helga was very unlike the people around her.

For instance, Helga never "popped up" when she awoke from a night's rest. She never woke up all at once.

Instead, she woke up in segments. First, her eyes would drift open, she'd quickly survey her surroundings, and begin moving her hands. Her focus would shift to her face; she would find herself gripping, rubbing and twisting her face until she could mumble something inaudible about waking up and how it was generally the last thing she wanted to do. Next, she'd turn her attention to her thick mass of hair, not attempting to smooth it out at all. Instead, she'd ruffle it; making it look even messier than a night of moving around in bed would. From there, strangely enough, her feet would bend at an impossible curve, and by some miracle, she'd be at least half awake at this point.

Arnold was not aware of this because he was a stalker, because, in all honesty, Arnold was far too busy to stalk anyone. Nor did he acquire this information because of having the opportunity to wake up next to Helga on a regular basis. Granted, he had woken up next to her more often than most people involved in a friendship between two people who had a tacit and mutual attraction for one another.

No, Arnold knew about Helga's sleeping and waking habits because, at present, the two shared the backseat of a car, which was being used as a bed. And despite the fact that, when they first encountered the falling rain as a problem, the intent of the evening was to remain on their respective sides of the car, the morning brought about another outcome. While Arnold was able to remain upright in the backseat, leaning on the armrest of the door, Helga took up the remaining two-thirds of the seat, laying her upper body on the middle and left side of the car and using her upper arm as a makeshift pillow. Arnold recognized how similar their positions were from when he and Helga babysat the twins, only this time it was significantly less intimate. Given the pattern of the weekend, he surmised that maybe it was for the best.

Against his better judgment, and against the side of him that knew all too well that Helga was not in the clear just yet. When they arrived home, she had a 'boyfriend' (he used the term rather loosely) who would probably want a solid answer as to where they stood. And even though Helga clearly knew where she and Derek stood, and Arnold was fairly certain as to where they stood he was not sure A) if Derek knew or B)If he would accept it readily once he found out.

Eventually, Arnold told himself that, although insane, Helga was smart, and she'd know exactly how to let Derek know what was going on between herself and Arnold.

'What is going on?' he asked himself. Yes, he enjoyed Helga's company immensely, and he had no problems returning her attentions. But what made North Dakota any different from New York? Who was to say that once they arrived back home, tat his attentions wouldn't be directed elsewhere; that his anxiety wouldn't increase, yet again, and his friendship with Helga wouldn't disintegrate?

Arnold resolved in his mind, that he could not worry about that; he had to focus on _his _part. He knew exactly where and in what instance he was lacking from his prior experiences. Determining in his mind that he would do all in his power to not repeat hid former actions, Arnold impulsively reached over, across the backseat of the car, intending to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. In his mind, he saw Helga smiling in her sleep, before blinking her eyes against the sun that filtered in through the window and waking up.

Arnold had a vivid imagination.

Instead, Helga sprang up, almost as if doused with a gallon of freezing water and looked around, shocked. Ignoring Arnold, she used her right hand to grasp her wrist, searching for he watch she rarely if ever wore. Helga began looking around again, as if searching for something.

"What time is it?!" she finally shrieked, sitting back down on the seat, but looking panicked, nonetheless.

"Umm…" Arnold was at a loss for words. Needless to say, he expected his reception to go a bit differently. "About…7:30?" he answered.

Before Arnold was entirely aware of it, Helga was out of the car, running toward the Guest Building, muttering something about "wanting to hit the road an hour ago!" and "running behind!"

'Some morning…', Arnold sighed, exiting the car after her.

* * *

"So…to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Viola entered the dilapidated frat house, smiling despite her surroundings. He was never one to beat around the bush, and with good reason. She asked him for a favor-a very important one, at that- and he wanted to know what it was, and how he'd be compensated.

"I love what you've done with the place." she commented, opting to stand across the room, instead of seating herself on a couch covered with dirty laundry and food wrappers. "It's so…charming."

"Can we cut to the chase, Viola? I'm a very busy guy."

"I'm sure you are." she said, condescendingly. "Still waiting tables at the Reception hall?"

"Don't you have a knife to jam in someone's back?" he commented back. Viola almost made the mistake of going at it again with him, but remembered that she needed his help with something, and decided to hold her tongue. In truth, he was no more of a saint than she was, but she ignored that fact and moved on.

"Whatever. I need your help."

"With…"

Instead of explaining, Viola pulled an old program out of her large purse and held it out to the boy in front of her. It was from a dance show a few months prior, and folded out to several pages.

"And this is?"

"Check the third page. Second picture from the bottom." she said, looking disdainfully around the room.

Scrolling down with his eyes, he let them rest on a pretty blonde girl, with light brown eyes and her long hair in a stately bun. Her wide smile looked good on her, and her pose was purely that of a dancer.

"Whoa, Vye. Who's that?' he asked, clearly impressed.

Rolling her eyes at his reaction to her most hated rival, Viola snatched the program back from him. "That's Helga Pataki. Derek's girlfriend…or ex-girlfriend, if everything goes according to plan." she finished with a smirk.

The boy sat back in the dingy recliner and ran a hand threw his mussed, shaggy, brown hair. "So, what? Derek's dating again…what does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing. It has to do with _me_. I need to take her down." Viola stated.

"Why?"

"Because she's dating _Derek_. I thought you heard that part." she said, consenting to sit down, only because, instead of helping her, he was now just tiring her out, mentally.

"Okay, so…you're out to get this chick, who's dating your ex-boyfriend? The same ex-boyfriend that you cheated on? Am I with you so far?"

"You act as though I don't care about Derek at all…"

"You don't."

"Of course I do," Viola said, dismissing his ridiculous statement with a wave of her hand. "I care about him like I care about…this." she said, holding up her large handbag for his view.

"You care about him like a fugly bag?" the boy asked.

"It's not fugly! It's _designer_." she replied, holding it to her chest. The bag was giraffe-print, with bright green straps and sagging side pockets. "What's special about this bag is that I don't even really like it that much. It's far too large, I don't have enough things to fill it with, and it slouches whenever I put it down. It's more of a burden to me than a functioning handbag.

"But, the reason why I have it is because it makes people stop, and say, "Hey! Look at that girl with the awesome giraffe-print handbag with the green leather straps and adorable gold front clasp!" I wear it because it's a statement. It makes people think about the person to whom this object is attached."

"So, Derek's an object?" he asked. He'd never really liked the girl, and even though he was hardly 'loyal' to Derek himself, hearing someone being talked about like a handbag was uncomfortable for him.

"Only slightly." she answered, batting her eye. "All I'm saying is, Derek is putty in my hands. And, the thought of that putty elsewhere, is a little unnerving. You understand, right Mike?"

"Sure." he answered. "So, what exactly do you need my help with? Sounds like you've got this all figured out on your own."

Viola stood, brushing off the front of her barely-there dress. "Well, the first phase has been set into motion. As soon as I know the results from this weekend, putting together a plan should be easy. I figure, with Helga as my rival, and Derek as yours, everyone wins."

"Derek's not my rival." Mike said, standing to walk Viola to the door.

Turning and rolling her green eyes at him, Viola wore a knowing smirk. "Please, Michael. You're lying, and we both know it. You slept with his girlfriend, and you weren't even sorry about it."

Mike returned her glance with a vengeance. "She didn't seem too upset about it, either."

Viola quirked an eyebrow, then winked before turning to the door. "Ciao. Try not to miss me too much."

* * *

Sitting on the couch, with her boyfriend's head in her lap, Phoebe realized that for the first time in a long time, she was content. The movie that the two picked out just finished, and the concerto that played during the ending credits was soft enough to play throughout the house.

Phoebe hated to think that in the deepest depths of her soul that she didn't trust Gerald, because she did. She told herself that if indeed he did have something to hide from her (which he did not, she reasoned), that A) it either wasn't something that she had any business knowing to begin with or B) it was nothing at all and she was being unreasonable. Phoebe did not like to think about either option, but she least liked to think about the latter of the two because she didn't like to think of herself as being unreasonable.

Even if she was being unreasonable, Phoebe knew that the changes she saw in Gerald over the past few weeks were not due to her imagination. He seemed more stressed as of late, his mind never on the task at hand, but on some seemingly inconceivable plan for the future. That night was the first in a long while that he was not called away by a mysterious being on the phone (whom he always called 'Sir').

Sighing again, Phoebe, moved for the remote on the other side of the couch when, Gerald suddenly sprang up, looking around the room as if he were lost.

"What's wrong?!" was Phoebe's immediate response, even though nothing in regards to his breathing or heart rate, prior to his awakening seemed out of sorts.

"Gold…" he answered as if astonished by the word itself. Like, a man, who had before, never so much as heard of the precious metal.

"Gold?" Phoebe asked, hoping that it was all a part of some elaborate dream.

"Gold!" he said, standing up from the couch. "Gold! I need gold. I need to find gold!" he said, gathering his coat, and heading toward the door.

"But Gerald-" she began, scrambling off the seat to follow after him. She was stopped in the hallway when he suddenly turned around and left a quick kiss on Phoebe's mouth. She watched him mouth 'Sorry' back to her, before disappearing out of her front door.

'There goes the evening…' she sighed again.

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" Arnold asked, taking his former position in the front seat of Helga's car.

"Well, Lady V is staying with Olga, and I've just driven for 14 hours. Our options are rather limited." she said, sitting next to him and stretching her arms over the steering wheel. "Any suggestions?"

"Well, the most responsible thing to do, would be to, despite the hour, call up as many of our classmates as possible and try to catch up on as much schoolwork as we can." Arnold explained.

"That would be very responsible of us."

Nearly half an hour later, the two found themselves sitting in the darkened 'sitting area' of Mighty Pete, finishing off, between them, three burgers, three large orders of onion rings, two milkshakes and an apple turnover. The trunk of Mighty Pete that protruded the center of the tree house supported Helga's elongated back and she sighed, crumpling her final piece of garbage.

"You're bad for me…" Helga finally said, smiling in a tired way.

"What?" Arnold asked a second later, catching Helga's words.

"In the past three days, I've eaten little else besides greasy burgers and mysterious Diner food. Are you trying to kill me?" she asked, light-heartedly.

"'Trying' is the operative word." he replied, mimicking her stance, and laying on the floor of the tree house. The soft light from a nearby streetlight filtered in through a small window in the wooden planks, and painted the half of the room where Arnold sat in a pale, bluish glow. "So, what happens now?"

"Well, this week is going to be crazy: Olga's got the venue reserved, but we have to check out the Banquet Hall, meet with the caterer, decorate-"

"Helga-", Arnold interrupted, until Helga returned the gesture by continuing to speak.

"She'll probably want me to try on some hideous dress she ordered from a maternity website,-"

"Hel-"

"And she wants to hire a photographer. I told her that you might be able to do it, and she can even call the school, if they need a recommendation-"

"Helga." Arnold said, his stern tone doing more to shut Helga up than any amount of shouting would. "I meant about Derek. What are you going to do when you see him?" he was both serious and humbled.

Helga rolled her eyes and sighed, knowing that there was a part of her that was truly dreading this conversation. "Arnold, why do you insist on talking about Derek?" she asked, quietly.

"Because he's your boyfriend." Arnold replied. _'Not to mention a ratehr inconvenient roadblock, right now…' _he thought.

"No, he's not." Helga said, defiantly.

"Does _he_ know that?" Arnold asked, He knew that he was igniting Helga's ire by questioning her so much, when she clearly wanted to sidestep the issue altogether. But, Arnold recognized her behavior: she was reluctant to tell him how she felt, and now, she was reluctant to do the same with Derek, even though she didn't reciprocate his feelings.

"Well, you know how boys are…" she said, effectively lifting the mood. "Trust me, he'll know, okay?"

Arnold merely shrugged and lifted his back from against the tree trunk. "Whatever you say, Helga."

"That's right." Helga said, closing her eyes and smiling for the first time. "Whatever I-"she began again, turning to Arnold to find that he silently and stealthily moved so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes, so smoldering and dark, that even with the soft light coming in, she could barely see the green in them. "What are you doing?" she breathed, the only coherent thing she could think to say.

"Nothing…" he said, as breathlessly as she did, inching closer until Helga was so crossed eyed from looking at him, that she had little choice but to close her eyes. She also blamed the fact that, at present, his hand was snaking around her wrist and up the slope of her bare arm. Without thinking, she parted her lips and leaned forward.

When a few seconds passed, and the warmth from Arnold's body heat began to slowly fade, Helga opened her eyes slowly, trying to shrug off her immediate disappointment. What she saw was Arnold, his body still close to hers (though not quite as close as she wanted), sitting next to her looking entirely relaxed and satisfied. Before she could ask for any sort of explanation, he spoke.

"I was thinking, maybe we should save that for tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Helga asked, still feeling slightly light headed.

"I was thinking we should get together. Rent some movies. Like old times." he suggested.

Helga exhaled, and looked awkwardly around the makeshift house. 'Old Times' were rarely if anything like the past few weeks with Arnold, except that she was falling for him with near reckless abandon.

"Old times…great. Should I tell Phoebe and Gerald to come too?' she asked.

Arnold smiled, catching onto her game and squeezed the hand she nearly forgot he was holding. "Older times, Helga. You and me. Bad movies, burnt popcorn." he explained.

Helga smiled, despite herself, suddenly looking forward to the day ahead. _'Oh,' _she thought. _'Those times…'_

* * *

_Why did it take me so long to crank out this chapter? Does it feel like I died for a while? I feel like I died for a while. I was hardly writing anything at all, for a few weeks. Ugh. Hate that feeling. _

_I hope everything was clear regarding Viola's visit to 'Mike', whom I hope will be another (wickedly) fun addition to this story. And I decided not to write about Arnold's and Helga's drive home, because it would be boring. I know this because I had to drive from Maryland to South Carolina (and back) with my parents, brother, sister, cousin and insane Yorkshire terrier, and it was very boring. Road trips generally aren't very interesting until someone gets maimed._

_Bye!!!_

_-Pointy_Objects_


	34. Ultimatum

The Compromise:

Chapter 33: Ultimatum

* * *

"_**I can feel the color running,**_

_**As it's fading from my face.**_

_**Try to speak, but nothing's coming.**_

_**Nothing I can say to make you stay."**_

"_**Talk You Down"**_

_**The Script**_

* * *

In her short lifetime, there were a few things Helga almost always expected to see in the morning. She expected to see the trashcan in her room toppled over, and a guilty looking Strudel sitting not far off. She expected an empty kitchen, or, if there happened to be people in it, she expected her father to be going on about some new business venture, and her mother listening half-heartedly as they both prepared for their day. And, more often than not, she expected some type of animal fecal matter somewhere on her car.

What she would not have guessed, under any circumstances or strange medication's side effects, was the entire Winters family, in her bedroom. Olga stood at the closet, little Jamie strapped to her chest, with her back to Helga, looking at each article of hanging clothing and checking the labels. Helga had yet to ask her sister why exactly she was doing what she was doing, because she was too perplexed by the rest of the occupants of the room. Kevin sat in a nearby chair, with Timothy in the same contraption as his twin sister, staring intently at his phone. She guessed that he told Olga that he was doing work from home, when in reality, he was embroiled in a heated game of Tetris.

"Is there a reason why you're all here?" she finally asked, sitting up in her bed. The family managed to barge in just after she got dressed and ready for school, but she was no more awake than she expected to be, given the commotion in her room. She sighed, before continuing. "I have a long day ahead of me and-"

"_You_?! I have a long week ahead of _me_, Baby Sister! I have to check on the caterers, arrange the place settings, and hire a photographer. This party isn't going to come together by itself…" Olga said, exasperated.

"Well then, why are you _here_? Shouldn't you be out, doing all of those things?!" Helga asked, standing up. "And what are you doing in my closet?!"

As Kevin sighed tiredly, Olga went on. "We were on our way to see the venue, and I thought I'd see what dress size you took. I ordered that adorable dress for you the other day, but I wanted to make sure I got the sizing right."

"Olga!" Helga said, approaching her sister, who was far too excited about the prospect of the 'adorable' dress to notice the anguish on her sister's face. "That dress was not 'adorable'! It was _ugly_! I told you I didn't want to wear it!"

"Silly Helga…" Olga said, childishly poking Helga's nose. "Worry not, Baby Sister, I saw a few others that were just perfect, so I ordered them too. You'll have your pick of the lot." she finished, happily, assured in her own mind that she pleased her sister with her good taste. "And you said you'd help me with a photographer…" she pouted.

Helga rolled her eyes at her sister's old and stale methods for getting people to cooperate with her. "Well, Arnold's done a few events; weddings and stuff like that. His work is really good, but I don't know about the pricing." Helga searched through her purse and wrote down his cell phone number on a piece of paper. "You can call the school too; the photo teacher knows his work better than I do." she finished. She knew this to be a lie; nearly every photo that Arnold took over the past year and a half, she saw and critiqued before any professor was able to. She smiled, feeling both humbled and elated that he valued her opinion so.

Without much debate, Helga exited her room and the house, no longer upset by the family in her room, including the eccentric sister who was heavily prepared to dress her in something utterly hideous, under the veil of looking 'appropriate' for their parents party. She was now focused on the day ahead of her, which was sure to be long; she had to speak with the girls, find out what the status was regarding the Dance Company, and what developments were made while she was absent. Phoebe was unlike herself the last time they spoke, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it, knowing beforehand that if it was something between Phoebe and Gerald, there was little she could truly do aside from listening to her friend and helping to rid her of some of her fears.

Most importantly she had to square things away with Derek; let him know where she stood and why. Helga was aware that Derek had a thing for charming her when she least expected (or wanted it), and told her mind and heart to be on guard. Thinking back to the night before, she remembered how Arnold assured her that he would be there for her, despite the results of the day. She joked that she could end the day with any number of boyfriends, from none at all to three. When Arnold asked who the third prospect was, she said that she may have the uncontrollable urge to phone up Arnie and see what he was doing. Arnold quickly quieted that likelihood, by taking her hand and escorting her the rest of the way home.

Pulling up to the school, Helga emptied her backseat, and strode to the school, scanning the packed schoolyard for Arnold, or at least Gerald, who would inevitably know where Arnold was. It was no secret that she was more eager to see him as the seconds stretched by.

"Helga!' she heard, grimacing that it wasn't Arnold's, but turning around nonetheless.

"Hey, Lila…"

Lila looked both impatient and exasperated by Helga's non-chalant attitude, especially after her extended absence. "Yeah, hey, Helga. How are you? I'm just dandy, thanks for asking…_where have you been_?!" she finally shouted, earning her the attention of many in the courtyard.

"I was visiting my grandmother; Olga's orders. By the way, you're invited to my parent's anniversary party." Helga said, although she was under whether or not that would quell Lila's ire.

Much to her surprise, it did. "Really?" she said, the shift in her mood almost instantaneous. "Is…will your cousin be there?"

"Who, Robbie?" Helga asked, wrinkling her nose, wondering why Lila would ask about him.

"Duh…" Lila said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah…what does…anyway," Helga said, changing the subject, and moving on to more pressing matters. "What's going on with Dance Company; what'd I miss?"

"Well," Lila said, walking in stride next to Helga, trying to weed through the crowd that seemed to gather around them. "It's a good thing that you _did _go see your grandma, because that's exactly what we told Caroline Henrietta."

"She was _here_?!"

"Yeah, she wanted to have a meeting with all the captains, but we had your back. Too bad no one had Viola's; CH was not happy about _her _not being there." Lila said.

"Viola wasn't there? Why not?" Helga asked.

"Well, I don't know where she was, but Caroline Henrietta said that she was upset that she…oh no…Derek."

Helga stopped and stared at her red-haired friend. "Derek? What does he have to do with this?"

"He's on the roof…"

"What…" Helga began, looking in the direction that captured Lila's green eyes. Following her gaze up to the roof, Helga's jaw went slack when she saw none other than Derek, holding a bouquet of white and yellow daisies and a microphone. After a few seconds of feedback passed, Derek spoke into the device, his voice resonating throughout the courtyard.

"Welcome Home…" he said, beaming proudly.

'Welcome home, indeed…'

* * *

"Well, look who it is, the Urban Casanova…"

"What are you talking about?" Arnold asked, slamming his locker shut. He arrived early to school that day, feigning, even in his own mind that he had a lot of work to do, for an upcoming Physics project, when in reality, he was more than eager to see Helga, especially since he surmised that she'd be permanently ending things with Derek.

"It's your new name…The Urban Casanova…" Gerald said, smoothly.

"What happened to 'Papa Teresa'?"

"Nah, you cant be Papa Teresa anymore." Gerald deadpanned.

"Why not?"

"Because, Papa Teresa would never steal another man's girl. How is 'Jesse's Girl' these days, anyway?"

Arnold stopped in his tracks and gaped at his best friend. "I didn't steal anybody! And Helga isn't _anyone's _girl." he said, seriously. He was aware that even if Gerald was joking (which was usually the case) something about the thought of Helga being chained to anyone, even to himself, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Man, you know I'm playin'. If you ask me, I'm in support of any course you two decide to follow." Gerald replied, bringing his hands up, as he walked.

"Really?" Arnold asked skeptically. Lately, if his friends weren't berating him for his behavior towards Helga, they were reminding him how royally he messed up with her.

"Really. But, real talk, man, what happened with you two this weekend?"

Arnold shrugged. In reality, little else besides a realization within himself-and within Helga from what he could see-and that was too hard to explain to Gerald. "Nothing, really."

"Are you sure? Because Phoebe noticed that Helga was absent for a few days, and I couldn't help that you too were out of town, and now that you're back, I can't help but wonder if Helga will be too."

Arnold shrugged, realizing that even if there were some defense that he could make, Gerald's mind was made up, and there was little chance of him skating by his friend's accusations. He opened the door to the school, unconcerned with the loud crackling of a microphone that barely reached his ears from across the campus.

* * *

"What were you _thinking_?!" Helga said, slamming the door shut behind her. Classes hadn't started yet, but even if the bell were to go off, she chose a classroom that was out of use for most of the day. Bringing a hand to her reddened forehead, Helga kept him from answering, by holding her other hand out in front of her.

Ignoring her body language and expression, Derek spoke. "I just thought…you said-"

"I _said_, that we needed a _break_. To think about things. You can't…you can't do things like that, and…after…" she sighed, falling into a nearby chair.

Derek remained silent for a few moments, and it wasn't until then that Helga looked up to find a bouquet in his hand, hanging limply by his side. They were not made of roses, like she would have thought, had she been asked, but of white and yellow daisies; far from her favorite flowers, but a better selection than the generic roses he usually went for. She looked up at him, through the hands that were covering her face and sighed again.

'_Why is he trying?_' she asked herself. '_Doesn't he see where this is going?_'

"Derek, we can't…I don't want to lead you on anymore." she said, simply. She felt, and swiftly tried to ignore, the crack in her heart when he took a seat on the floor in front of her, looking at her pleadingly.

"Can I just say something?" he asked, not giving her time to respond. "I did a lot of thinking over the past few days. And, after that, I still didn't feel any different. If anything I was mad at myself, for letting some girl effect me like this.

"I left the mountain early. I drove to my dad's house. And we…talked. For a while."

Helga gaped at Derek, who was looking at the grey linoleum flooring around them, instead of at her. She knew the struggle it took for him to go talk to his father, and although she was unsure what it had to do with their situation, she was somewhat in awe.

"We talked about the divorce…all the things I was too young to understand when it happened. He told me that he made mistakes, didn't appreciate my mom like he should have. But do you know what still kills him?

"He let her go. She said that she threatened to leave and he _let _her. She walked away from him, and he didn't try and stop her. I'm don't want to make that same mistake. I know I've been wrong, and I've messed up a lot. But, I'm not going to stop chasing you."

Squeezing her eyes and fists shut, Helga shook her head, fighting with her spontaneous urge to drink in everything Derek was saying and believe it wholeheartedly. She could not deny that he spoke to his father, and that something in their conversation actually touched him, because, when she really thought about it, she knew he was too good of a person to lie about something that serious. Releasing the breath that she didn't know she was holding, she said, quietly, "But I want you to stop."

Her words hit Derek hard and fast. He thought his heartfelt plea would receive better reception. He stepped back, for a moment, eyes still trained on the floor, and tried to breathe evenly.

"I just need you to do this one more thing for me. One more day. Give yourself one more day, and if you're sure that we…aren't going to work, I'll back off. I promise."

In her mind, Helga saw him leaving, going about his day, with an air of slight optimism gracing his thoughts and movements. She saw herself confronting him later on in the day, or maybe the next day.

Instead, she shook her head, slower and less frantically this time, and spoke. "I don't need a day."

The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, and she knew it was the glimmer of optimism coming through.

"My answer is no." she said, releasing a breath, and awaiting the worst.

* * *

Arnold removed the final three photos in his portfolio and inspected them closely, whilst his Photography teacher continued with the class critique. They were to point out the mistakes in each of the photos that Mr. Z put in front of the class, and how best the problem could be rectified. Arnold, however, received a muffled and static filled message on his phone that morning, pertaining to a potential photo job, and therefore, had other things on his mind.

"Arnold, compositionally, how would you rate this print?"

Arnold looked up at the front of the room wearily, and stared at the print. It wasn't bad, compositionally, and it was exposed to near perfection. Squinting his eyes, Arnold looked harder, and found the problem. The photo was of passing cars, seeming to be moving in one direction on a still background.

"It doesn't have any focus. It looks like it's supposed to be showing movement, but it looks the like the photographer is moving back and forth instead of letting the subject move. Almost like the camera was focused on more than one thing, and at the last minute decided to go another way."

Mr. Z, nodded knowingly, glad that one of his favored students was still in the realm of the living, as he noticed that Arnold was particularly distracted for most of the day. When the bell rang for classes to be dismissed, Arnold gathered his meager belongings and headed for the door. In the rush to leave the class, a girl, who was a few inches shorted than him, roughly brushed past him, leaving a flurry of fallen books in her wake. Arnold bent to pick them up, and found the last of these, his black portfolio, held out in front of him. On the other end of the outstretched arm was Derek, looking conspicuously smug and self-satisfied.

"Uh, thanks." Arnold said, taking the book from him and tucking it under his opposite arm. The two stared at one another, sizing up their opponent and deciphering each other's body language.

"No, I should thank you."

"For what?" Arnold asked, ready to pounce. Derek was being too cordial too go unnoticed.

"For your critique. The last photo was mine."

Arnold raised an eyebrow, and once again, tried to pick apart what Derek was trying to get at. Something was up, and Arnold didn't like being that last to find out what it was. "Oh. You're welcome."

"Now that I think about it, I think I should take it over again. Maybe submit it for student critique again." Arnold nodded, and noticed that the two did not move from the doorway, even though the next class had already begun. They were both late for their following courses, but paid it little mind.

"Really?"

"Really. You know, Arnold, I'm quite good at getting second chances. You do well to remember that."

* * *

"So you'll be ready by next week?"

Helga's eyes shot open, remembering where she was, and why she was there. Due to her absences, Rosso wanted to meet with her and fill her in regarding Carolina Henrietta's latest visit. The outlines for the competition were spelled out, and though Helga didn't have to perform in the seven numbers that her company had to choreograph, she had to form at least two of them herself. One was a solo, and the other, she had to team up and choreograph with her fellow captains. She spent the rest of the class practicing on her own and thinking of what she needed to do to prepare herself, mentally and physically.

"Yeah. Of course I will." she said, forcing herself to smile, despite the day. Exiting the room, Helga rolled her shoulders, testing their strength, and decided to leave school early that day. She wasn't in any mood to sit and be lectured at, or risk seeing Arnold, eve though only one class remained for her day.

She expected Derek to be upset, and maybe even react sadly.

She did not anticipate his biting words, and harsh tone. And, when he brought Arnold into the mix, as she knew would happen, she didn't expect his accusations to hurt so much.

'_Do you honestly think he's going to want you now? He didn't want you before we were dating, what's changed?"_

Even after she glided across the room, drew her hand back, and left, as a final reminder of herself, a bright crimson handprint on the side of his face, all he did was wince slightly and chuckle to himself, before walking off.

She told herself that it would be the last she would have to do with Derek, but her subconscious told her differently, over the course of the day.

Pulling the heavy wooden door toward her, she exited the humid dance studio, and barely registered any shock on her face, as Arnold stood before her, looking both serious and sympathetic.

"Hi." she breathed, gripping the strap of her duffle bag tighter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quietly. They were the only two in the hallway, but he still kept his voice down. Helga nodded, and looked around awkwardly. "I ran into Derek."

Helga nodded again, forcing herself to crack a smile. "Yeah, me too."

"Did you…I mean.-"

"Yes." she said, seriously finally meeting his eyes.

"Really?"

Helga was taken aback by the doubt in his voice, and felt the multiple splinters in her heart finally meet and form deep cracks.

"Why would I lie about that? Of course I did, I said I would." she replied, sounding offended.

"It's just that…I was thinking about it. Maybe you need more time." Arnold ignored Helga's look of shock and continued. "It wouldn't be fair for me to ask you to do that; go from your feelings to Derek to…whatever we have so quickly. I said I'd stand by you and I still plan to. Your parents party is Saturday, and maybe by then-"

"No!" Helga shouted, her echo carrying in the vacant hallway. "I refuse to let you give me an ultimatum. I know what I'm doing!" she said.

"Still…it's not fair to you." Arnold admitted. "Saturday, okay?"

Helga blinked, feeling her eyes swell with the tears she refused to shed, and nodded. She nodded, and tilted her head up to meet Arnold's eyes one last time, silently pleading with him. Her entire body tingled, and being so near to him, was messing with him. She squared her shoulders and moved past him in the narrow corridor, achingly slow and made her way down the steps to the student parking lot.

"I don't need until Saturday." she said to herself, exhaling. "My answer is yes."

* * *

_A/N: Arnelgians, young and old alike, Derek and Helga are no more. *Thunderous Applause*.I tried to draw out at least a little sympathy for Derek, but I'm not sure about it. But, worry not, I know that there are some people out there who actually like Derek (I happen to like him a lot. He's a very…interesting character.), and he'll be back. In a big way. _

_In other news…as of November 15th__, your dear Antoinette is officially 22 years old. Man, I'm ancient. Have a good day, folks!_

_-Pointy_O_


	35. Save The Date

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 34: Save the Date**

"_All things considered, I'm doing just fine._

_Even though you left a hole the size of Texas, deep inside._

_And my heart, the way I'm feeling, I should be losing my mind._

_But, all things considered…I'm doing just fine."_

_Yankee Grey_

"_All Things Considered"_

* * *

Helga released a heavy sigh as she raised her arms to rest over her head. She was currently reclined in her car, warmed by the mid-morning sun, burning time until she had to go inside and tour the venue with Olga, all the while being berated and prodded with party ideas. It was Wednesday, a mere three days before the party, and Helga could have sworn that Olga was trying to recreate their parents wedding, with all the preparations she was going through. Meanwhile, she had enough stresses going on in her life, and was in little mood to deal with Olga's mini tantrums.

In the two days prior, Helga managed to see Derek a total of fourteen times, all out of his own doing. The first four times she saw him, he only glared at her angrily, the three times that followed that, he attempted to apologize profusely, and the remaining seven were a jumble of desperate pleas at redemption and sorry excuses for insults.

Whatever reason he wanted to speak to her, she readily ignored, partially because he was so wishy-washy, that any conversation between them would most likely end in a physical altercation(initiated by her, of course). But, mostly, Helga was far too preoccupied with trying to talk to Arnold, to worry about Derek. She told her self that her mind was made up the second she saw him, outside of the dance studio, Monday afternoon, but in reality, it didn't become clear until she spoke to Phoebe that afternoon.

* * *

_Helga curled up in the porcelain tub and hugged her knees to her chest and Strudel sitting nearby. She heard the front door open, and just hoped that Reba or Kyo weren't planning to enter. But, It was only a little after four o'clock; their being home was unusual for the hour._

"_Why am I not surprised?" Phoebe asked, mimicking Helga, in a way. Helga turned to look at her friend, standing over her on the small elevation that the Jacuzzi bathtub allowed. For as long as she could remember, Phoebe's bathroom in their modest home was always a comfort. It was far more luxurious than Rhonda's from what she could remember, but even in it's splendor, it was relaxing and soothing. _

_In a moment, Helga was following Phoebe back to her room, making small talk and trying to avoid the obvious._

"_So, what's the big idea, Pheebs?"_

_Phoebe calmly paced around her small, modest room, before taking a seat at her desk, which was, surprisingly free of any books or papers. Helga lay back on the futon absentmindedly picking at her fingernails while Strudel looked for a potted plant to uproot. _

"_Well, the thing is, I-"_

"_Saw your face and wow?" Helga asked, rising up from her position slowly, but smiling maniacally. _

"_Helga-" Phoebe began warningly, only to be interrupted by Helga again. _

"_Right then, I took a vow…"_

"_Helga, I don't-"_

"'_That we'd be together, girl, just you and me!' Go ahead, Pheebs, finish it!" Helga encouraged, excitedly. _

"_No."_

"_Please?"_

"_No."_

_Helga snatched up her pet from her spot alongside the bed and held her out toward Phoebe. "But Strudel wants you to…" she sighed empathetically. _

_Phoebe curled her tiny lip at the animal and huffed. "That's the meaning of eternity…" she said, in a low voice. Helga immediately released Strudel and fell back into her previous position on the bed laughing insanely, while Strudel oinked in unison. Phoebe, on the other hand, crossed her arms and waited for the laughing to cease. "I don't see what's so funny."_

_Helga sat up again, wiping the tears from her eyes. "What's so funny? Phoebe, who writes that stuff? It's hilarious! And you! You were so obsessed with him…" Helga said, before erupting into another fit of laughter. _

"_I was not obsessed, Helga." Phoebe replied. _

"_Yes, you were! You dragged me to that concert, and the guy was a complete idiot! I mean, listen to his name; Ronnie Matthews…he even sounds like a tool!" _

"_Helga, I was nine." Helga ignored her, but only continued laughing, even though the pain to her sides was evident from the expression on her face. "And besides, I don't make fun of your nine year old obsessions. Or should I say nine-year obsessions." she quipped. _

"_Hey." Helga said, straightening up. "I'll have you know it's been 15 years, and I'm not obsessed anymore. And even if I was, so what? I have nothing to be ashamed of."_

"_Really?"_

"_Really."_

"_You're not ashamed of any sculptures in particular made of any special materials?" Phoebe asked. _

"_No."_

"_You're not ashamed of maybe actually praying to these sculptures for guidance, once or twice?"_

_Helga hesitated for a moment. "Um…no. I'm not."_

"_So, that wedding dress you found at that consignment shop and tailored in the sixth grade…you're alright with that?" Phoebe asked, knowing she finally one-upped Helga. _

_Pausing and smiling, Helga let her shoulders drop. "Okay, I'm a little ashamed of that."_

"_I thought so."_

"_Okay, okay, no more talk of Ronnie Matthews or secondhand wedding gowns, or anything. So, what's up with you?" Helga asked, rocking back and forth on the floor. _

"_Gerald is acting strangely." Phoebe said, plainly. _

_Helga wiggled her nose at this, looking for the correct words to use. "Umm, Phoebe? Gerald's always acting strangely."_

"_Yes, I understand that, but he's acting very strangely. Stranger than usual." she emphasized. _

"_Stranger than constantly talking about food and using vocabulary that makes no sense until he explains it to you?" Helga asked. _

"_Yes. Stranger than that." Phoebe said, tapping a ballpoint pen against the top of her writing desk. _

"_Like what, exactly?' Helga asked. "Strange" to her didn't go much farther that bragging about pizza conquests and making up dictionaries of words and phrases. But, then again, she remembered that the was the same person who thought it was perfectly alright to show someone affection by gluing feathers to their butt. _

"_Well, the last time we went out together, he stopped by the nearest art supply store and bought a shopping cart full of gold foil. And he asks me questions like whether or not I prefer organic glass to inorganic glass. And, I stole a glance in his Physics notebook, yesterday."_

"_What was in it?" Helga asked, somewhat fearful of the answer. _

"_Hands. Dozens of sketches of hands. Closed hands, open hands, thumbs-ups, fists and peace signs and just…hands."_

"_That's not so weird, Pheebs. Maybe they're not even his. Maybe someone borrowed his books and did that, or whatever. Plus, he's still Gerald, just a little bit different. People change, but they mostly stay the same."_

"_Like you and Arnold?" she asked, coyly. _

"_Me and Arnold are the same. Nothing's changed between us." _

"_Yes it has. I see you two now. You don't want things to stay the same and neither does he. Why don't you just be honest with Derek and Arnold, and do what you want?" Phoebe asked pleadingly._

"_I can't do that."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because!" Helga said quickly. "Because…since the beginning, since I can remember, I've been selfish. I'm selfish with my affections, I love for all the wrong reasons. I love because it justifies my actions, and it makes me feel better about myself. Not once have I loved someone else for how I can make them feel._

"_Even now, Pheebs, I came to talk to you about your problems with Gerald-o, and we're talking about me! I'm still selfish!_

_Yesterday, Derek said being with me makes him want to be a better person. I'm actually doing something for someone. And, no I don't love Derek, but, I care about him. And caring about someone sometimes means doing what makes them happy, even if you're not."_

_Phoebe was a hair away from going over to her friend and reenacting the end of her fight with Derek. "Are you hearing yourself right now? You're contemplating reuniting with Derek because it will make him happy, while you, and Arnold, I might add, remain entirely miserable. That's the second most illogical thing you've ever said."_

"_What's the first?" Helga asked. _

"_That's beside the point. You wanting to be happy with someone else is not selfish. It's not as though you and Derek are married. You're free to step back and be happy if you want."_

* * *

Entering the establishment, Helga had to hand it to her sister…she knew how to pick a venue. Instead of the darkened fire hall that she expected, Olga managed to find a moderately sized venue, that was well lit, and relatively clean. There were a few rectangular tables scattered around with white tablecloths on them. Helga was sure that they were not Olga's doing, and she'd have them removed promptly. In the front of the room was a makeshift stage; a half-circle of raised light-brown wood, where a piano and a microphone stand. Helga advanced toward it, knowing there was little way of her getting out of doing this for Olga.

Sitting at the piano, Helga played a few scales, letting her hands move over the keys with abandon until she felt comfortable enough to attempt to play something. She remembered the few songs she learned to play from middle school; Pachabel's Canon, Pomp and Circumstance, all the 'classics' no one bothered to hear anymore. Taking a cautious look around the room, Helga scooted closer to the piano, and set her fingers over the pale white keys, before moving on.

"Am I interrupting something?" Helga heard from behind her, glad that someone made their presence known before she began playing something that would make use of her voice.

Turning around in her chair, Helga did not fight the smile that came upon her face, when she saw that Arnold was standing in the ornate doorway to the reception hall, a large black folder under his arm. Instead of the look of apprehension she expected, she noticed that he returned her smile in earnest and began to advance toward her.

"No, just…sitting around." she said, turning away from him, just enough that she was no longer facing, him, but he was still in her eyeshot. After a few moments, she remembered where she was, and was urged to ask, "Wait. Why are _you _here?"

Arnold chuckled, fingering the black folder in his hands. "Your sister actually called me. I guess she still needs a photographer, and wanted to see some of my work. It's strange, I guess. Usually, when I have to present my portfolio, there's a few people I have to compete against."

"Maybe she has that much faith in you." Helga said, shrugging; finally turning completely back to the piano. She silently kept her composure as Arnold, stood near the piano and watched her play and replay 'Ode to Joy' before taking a seat on the now cramped piano bench. "Can I see?' she asked, removing her hands from the piano keys and motioning towards his portfolio.

"You've seen most of them already."

"I know. But, I still like seeing them." she professed as he handed her the folder. Helga flipped through the first few pages; most were landscapes, close ups of their small suburban city. Some were familiar and sat like old friends behind the plastic coverings, and others were newer. Once she got toward the back of the book, Helga nearly dropped all of the photos, remembering the day the series of photos were shot. "Why are these in here?!"

"Because, they're really good." he said, as though stating the obvious.

Helga shook her head at the memory. The autumn before, Arnold was looking to build his portfolio. And after attending a few weddings, he thought of shooting brides. Unfortunately, he didn't know anyone getting married at the time, and decided to employ Lila and Helga as 'surrogate brides'. Purchasing a second-hand dress in good condition for fifty dollars, and using his grandmother's as well, he picked out his location and told Lila and Helga to meet him there. Lila, not knowing the importance of the vintage dress and having arrived first, went immediately for the modern, strapless second-hand dress. And when Helga arrived ten minutes later, found that she was wearing a dress older than both of her parents.

"I looked like the Ghost Bride." she said, remarking on one picture, where she sat by an old oak tree, looking particularly pale. Continuing on, Helga (and Arnold, from the lack of movement next to her) froze upon the last picture in Arnold's portfolio. It was the most recent, from their trip to retrieve Lady Veronika, taken on the day that they were locked out of the community. Helga found a rope, hanging from an old tree, and decided to burn time and energy swinging to her heart's content. While she did so, Arnold set up his tripod a few feet away, checked the white balance, aperture and timer, all before stepping into the frame. Just as Helga was swinging back toward him, he reached out to grab the rope, just under where her hands were, stilling her there, momentarily. The shutter of the camera closed just as Helga collided with Arnold, a smile on her face, and hands gripping the rope nervously. Light seeped through where their faces were separated, silhouetting their bodies against the bright sun.

Helga fingered the edge of the page nervously, biting her lip before she met Arnold's eyes. The breath she wasn't aware she was holding was finally released, when there was a clatter of heels coming toward them.

"Yoo-hoo…it's me!" Olga announced, arriving in the room, with her usual troupe following behind. On one hip sat Jamie, who was amusing herself with reaching for one of Olga's earrings, but falling short each time. Timothy was laying in his stroller chewing on something, while Kevin pushed him and holding a thick garment bag, half heartedly. Helga momentarily felt bad for Kevin, but then shrugged, knowing that it was his decision to marry her psychotic sister. "Arnold! You're on time…very nice."

Olga came toward the two teens, and, while balancing one of her children, she managed to pry a thick binder from under her arm and flip to a random page in the middle.

"What is _that_?" Helga asked, completely out of her reverie.

"It's my party planning book." Olga said, not looking up at her sister.

"Olga! It's huge! You're not planning a _wedding_." she told her sister.

"But there's a lot to think about…table settings, arrival times, the caterer-"

"Okay, I get it." Helga said, holding up her hand to cut her sister off. "Why'd you want me to meet you here? We can't tour the venue if you're interviewing Arnold."

"Well," she began, sheepishly. "I knew you wouldn't come any other way…and I really _do_ need your help. Besides, you need a dress."

"I told you, I have a dress already." Helga lied. The truth was, she was willing to wear a burlap sack painted green instead of anything that Olga deemed worthy to wear.

"No, you have _dresses_. I managed to find a few in your size, and I know they'll be just gorgeous, Baby Sister." Olga beamed, clearly proud of herself. Kevin came over and handed Helga the thick and heavy garment bag, which she took begrudgingly. "Now, while I interview the photographers, you try all these on, and just pop in to let me see how they look, okay?"

Helga made a face, and watched as Olga asked a wandering waiter where the ladies bathroom was. "Wait, _Photographers_? You're interviewing someone else?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be. I told him to be here at-"

"Sorry, I was late, I-"

Olga's voice, along with the male photographer's stopped in perfect sync while everyone in the room took note of everyone else.

Helga's eyes shot to Arnold's, looking for some relief and Olga's, looking to reprove her. Olga looked around, with glee, glad that everyone was in the same place at the same time, exactly as she planned.

And Arnold looked from Olga, to Helga, and finally to Derek, who stood exactly where he did, not a few moments ago, holding an identical black portfolio and looking shocked, knowing that the afternoon was panning out to be interesting, if nothing else.

* * *

"So, tell me a little about yourself. Derek, was it?" Olga said, happily, having taken a seat between the two boys. She was blissfully unaware of the tension being traded between them, having both been recommended by their photography professor and on opposite sides of a war over the girl in the next room.

Arnold listened half-heartedly as Derek talked about his clientele; the weddings he photographed, and the artists he knew, and other insignificant drabble that was sure to be forgotten once their portfolios were placed side by side. Where Derek excelled in talent, he lacked for in passion. His pictures evoked a sort of morbid amazement; they were always well taken, decently composed, nicely lit, but little appeal to them, from a personal perspective. Arnold knew that his pictures were probably amateur in comparison. But, he loved photography, and it was evident even in his imperfect prints.

That, and the sister of his interviewer was present in nearly half his photos. That had to count for something.

Olga was already flipping through Derek's photos, commenting on what she liked and disliked, before Helga entered in the first dress. Olga looked up first and gasped.

"Oh. I guess I forgot how…_tall_ you are."

Both boys' eyes followed hers, and nearly fell out at the sight of Helga, arms crossed in front of her, angrily and looking away, The dress she wore was barely long enough for her to sit down and short enough that she may be arrested if she attempted to walk outside in it. It was a dark, rich shade of shiny green material, but the length and cut already set the garment as a 'No' in her book.

"Okay, okay." Olga said, as if she were negotiating with her sister. "So, that one is going back to the shop. Let's see the other ones."

"I really _don't _want to do this anymore, Olga." Helga said, defiantly, ready to place her hands on her hips, but suddenly remembering the scant amount of fabric that was covering her body, and decided against it.

"But, I need to see which one you're going to wear. Please, Baby Sister; this is the last thing I'll ask of you." she said, smiling as Helga stomped off, tugging the back hem of the atrocious dress.

In the next 22 minutes, Helga tried on another four dresses. The first of these had a skirt made of green and white tulle, that was so massive and wide, that Helga barely fit through the door without a struggle. The second was of a decent length, hitting her just below her knees, but, across her chest, sat a bow, wider than her shoulders. The next one, Helga stood on the other side of the door, refusing to come out, but one word reverberated through the hall: lace. The last one that Helga pulled herself into looked as though it was made solely of fluorescent green shower loofahs, and itched Helga's skin wherever the fabric touched her.

Returning to her regular clothes, Helga deposited the dresses unceremoniously on a nearby chair and announced to her sister that she would find her own dress, and she was leaving for home. Helga was upset that she wasted so much of her afternoon entertaining Olga and watching sparks of tension fly between Arnold and Derek as they attempted to wow Olga with their contrasting portfolios. As she was leaving, she noticed the final print in Arnold's portfolio on display, and blushed, knowing that, now Derek saw it as well.

As she left, she thanked the waiter who showed her the bathroom, and noted the strange look he gave her. He was in casual clothes as well, probably not working that day, but overseeing Olga's demands for the upcoming party. He looked a few years older than her with messy dark brown hair and a chin of stubble. When he bid her goodbye, he was almost smiling at her; as though he knew something that she didn't. Leaving the reception hall, and walking to the parking lot, turning around only when she heard footsteps behind her.

"How'd it go?" she asked, once she got her bearings at seeing Arnold running toward her, nearly breathless. She didn't expect Olga to release them so soon, especially since the interview kept getting interrupted by her dress selections.

"I'll see you Saturday night, I guess." he said, shrugging his shoulders and blushing. Helga wasn't sure if it was from his sprint to tell her his good news, or he was happy about his good news. Or maybe he was just happy to see _her_.

"She made a decision that quickly? Olga's usually more indecisive about things…" Helga said, leaning on her car's frame.

"Well, it may have had something to do with the star of my portfolio…"

Helga swayed a bit, not uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but knowing that at least one hurdle stood In her way, before she was able to get there. "Look, about…the other day. What you said-"

"I said, Saturday." Arnold stated, cutting her off.

Helga huffed. "What if I don't feel like waiting?" she asked defiantly.

"Too bad. See you then." he said, tapping the tip of her nose, as she stood, hands on hips and looking at him through narrowed eyes. He turned to walk away from her, before adding, "Good luck finding something green." he joked.

Helga rolled her eyes, and tore the back door of her car open. Throwing in her bag, she noticed a tissue wrapped package nestled in the backseat, between her dance apparel and school books. Peeling back the outermost layer of tissue paper, Helga immediately noticed the mint-green material, and wondered why her grandmother left her dress in the car.

Helga ignored it momentarily, closing the door and walking to the driver's seat. As she started her car and pulled out of the nearly empty parking lot, she saw Derek, looking disappointed, talking with the brown-haired waiter from the reception hall. She wondered what they were talking about for a few seconds, but her mind returned to the dress in her backseat.

'Looks like I found something green…' she said to herself, turning out of the parking lot, and entering the street.

* * *

"So that's _her_? I see why you're upset." Mike said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He had no idea that when his ill-mannered boss ordered him to the reception area to supervise the person renting the area out for a party that weekend, that Derek would be there, or his now ex-girlfriend. Viola gave him scant information on her, but where she lacked, Derek made up for. Obviously the scorn she handed his old friend on a silver platter wasn't getting a warm welcome and Derek was more than bitter about the breakup. Especially now, when his only invitation to the party was foiled by the very guy he was competing with.

"Hey. " Derek said warningly. He knew Mike's reputation with other people's girlfriends, even though Helga technically wasn't his, anymore. "You keep your hands off of her. I just need your eyes and ears this Saturday." If Derek couldn't be there himself, he hoped that the scant amount of loyalty Mike had within him would be enough to get him some information on what Helga and Arnold would be doing, come Saturday.

"Don't worry, man. You can trust me." he said, slyly, knowing that Derek would do the exact opposite. For a moment, Derek wondered if he was doing something wrong, putting even a measure of trust in Mike could turn out badly for him, and Helga, if he got carried away.

'But, what are the chances of that happening?' he asked himself.

* * *

_A/N: I hope the whole Mike/Derek/Viola situation isn't too confusing. It'll ALL come together. I'm writing because I live on the eastern seaboard and we are completely snowed in! The highest it got was near three feet in some places; out in my front yard, it's about as high as my hips. Very beautiful. I'm no longer sick, or at least, I'm well enough to leave the house. I walked outside for the first time in 6 days this morning!!! Cabin Fever! Anyway, that's all that's going on. The next chapter is…the party! An Arnold and Helga resolution? What's Mike scheming? What will Helga wear? All will be answered in chapter 35._

_Meanwhile, I'm going to begin work in _It's Only Life _again. I had major writer's block with that, but it's been dissolved. One reviewer in particular reminded me why I love it so, and I'm motivated to press on! Thanks for reading!!_

_-Pointy_O_


	36. It Had Better Be Tonight

**A/N: I just realized something, you guys. Since my Back Home Sequel is officially done, I've only got one fan fiction in the works. That hasn't been so since ye olde days of Ruthless! I need to start another story before…oh wait. Perennials. Nevermind. Crisis averted. Begin reading.**

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 35: It Had Better Be Tonight**

**Disclaimer: I own nada. Not the songs, not the music…not the fandom. Thanks.**

**Warning: L O N G chapter. Very long. You might want to grab a snack. I have some chocolate covered doughnuts with me…but you can't have any. Sorry.**

* * *

Arnold walked length of the venue another time, taking candid photos of the crowd that gathered in Big Bob and Miriam's honor, and some of the decorations. Olga specified that she wanted a blend of candid and portraits for the party, but that he was also free to photograph whatever he wanted before the party started. Arnold was glad, above all things, that he'd be able to use some of the photos to expand his portfolio, and Olga as a reputable reference.

Arnold took a seat at the circular table where his friends sat, all invited by Helga as her personal guests. Each one obeyed Olga's orders in only wearing green or purple: Phoebe, in pale lavender, was brushing some lint off of the shoulder of Gerald's black suit, accented by a dark green vest and bow tie and Lila, who managed to find a one-shouldered cocktail dress, with both colors. They were talking animatedly around him, but Arnold was distracted, and took his seat without speaking.

"Hey, Stick In The Mud…" Gerald said behind him. Arnold turned to look at his friend, confused. "You gotta lighten up, man."

"What do you mean? I'm heavy. Don't I look heavy?" Arnold asked, resting his camera on the table and spreading his arms.

Lila cleared her throat, and tried to speak professionally. "Arnold, how do I say this without sounding mean…grow a pair." she said, smiling.

"Lila, that was a little bit mean." Phoebe told her. "What Lila is trying to say, is that Helga's presence, if nothing else, is guaranteed tonight, so you don't have to be nervous, or anything."

"I'm not nervous about her being here; this is her parent's 35th anniversary party. Of course she'd be here." He answered. Arnold picked up his camera again and, turning it on, began looking through the menu, on the tiny screen on the back.

"Then what's got you checking your ISO over and over?" Gerald asked. "I don't even know what 'ISO' means, but I know that's what you're doing."

Arnold put the camera back down, and sighed. "I think I'm too late, guys."

"You're not late, it's barely 7:30!" Lila said, wrinkling her freckle-covered nose and shaking her head.

"He meant about Helga." Phoebe said, rolling her eyes.

"Why would you think you're 'late'? She just broke up with Derek, she's definitely open to start something with you; everyone sees that…"

"Still…" Arnold began. "I don't want her to think that…that the only reason I like her is because of Derek."

"Do you think she was trying to get revenge on you, or something? Getting you back for all those times you stood her up?" Gerald asked, leaning forward on the table. In response, Arnold shook his head and shrugged.

"Well, to answer that for you, Arnold, no, that's not why she dated Derek." Phoebe said, speaking up. Arnold wasn't surprised; Phoebe never tolerated people thinking ill of Helga, even if they had reason to.

"How do you know?" Arnold asked, solemnly.

"Because…'_Semper et infirmi est animi exiguique voluptas Ultio_.'" she said, remembering when she spoke those words to Helga.

"What does that mean?" Arnold asked.

Lila quickly perked up, snapping her fingers rapidly. "Oh! I know this! It was on 'Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?' last night!" she said, happily.

"You _would _watch a show like that, wouldn't you?" Gerald asked.

"It means 'Revenge is always the weak pleasure of a little and narrow mind.'" Phoebe said. "Now, I know Helga doesn't have the strongest…moral fiber in the world, but she's a good person. And she wouldn't do that to Derek, or you. Even if you maybe deserved it a little bit." she finished, smiling.

Arnold smiled, good naturedly, as Helga's cousin sat down next to him, in the empty chair between himself and Lila.

"Hey, Arnold, right?" he asked, extending his hand out to him, and shaking it. Robbie was familiar with Helga's friends but introduced himself again. "And what is your name?" he asked, directing his attention to the redhead next to him.

"Lillian." Lila said, using her feigned stage name. "But, you can call me 'Lila'." she said, placing her hand in his.

"Is that what your friends call you?" he asked, smiling.

"Depends; do you want to be my friend?" she asked, coyly.

The remainder of the table stared, as Lila, once again, managed to wrap another young man around her pinky finger. No one doubted that by the end of the night, he'd be fetching her sparkling water and offering to walk the pets she didn't have.

"Excuse me! Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

All of the occupants of the room: near and distant relatives, coworkers, and friends, turned to look at the stunning blonde in front of the room, walking onto the stage and speaking into the microphone. Over the years, Arnold began seeing Olga as more than an overly-perky high-flyer, and saw her (as Helga did), and slightly annoying. Regardless, in her eggplant-colored, strapless gown, she was beautiful.

"Now, I want everyone to stay right where you are; I'm going to turn out the lights, and everyone shout, "Surprise Bob and Miriam, Happy 35th Wedding Anniversary!" she said, throwing her hands up.

"That's kind of a mouthful, Olga." Robbie said, loudly. "How about just 'Surprise'?" he suggested.

"Great idea, Robert." she said, still excited. "Alright? Everyone ready? Arnold!" she said, waving him over to her. He stood, and walked toward her, bringing his camera with him.

"I want a picture of them as soon as the lights come on, and everyone yells "Surprise!" okay?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before walking off toward the light switch. Once the lights were out, most of the room was engulfed in darkness, except for the opposite wall from the door, it's high windows casting a ghostly blue light over half of the room. Arnold quietly adjusted his camera so that the light balance wouldn't be thrown off once the room was lit again, wondering if Helga would be arriving with her parents. He hadn't spoken to her since the day Olga hired him, and instead, any information he received about the party, he got from Olga.

Bringing the camera to his face, he focused the lens on the unopened doorway. When Olga flipped the switch, Arnold took a single shot, capturing Bob and Miriam entering the heavily decorated setting, and then another shower of photos after the crowd behind him shouted.

The photos that followed were of Big Bob and Miriam embracing Olga, and their friends and families that came forward to offer them well wishes.

In none of these did Arnold see Helga. Before he could find someone to ask, he was beaten to the punch.

"This is all lovely, Olga," Miriam began, stepping away from a hug from one of her old classmates. "But, I don't see Helga anywhere. Where's Helga?" she asked, turning to her eldest child.

"That's the second surprise." Olga said, pointing to the same double doors they slowly moved away from once they entered.

Helga shuffled into the brightly lit venue of her parents anniversary party, much slower than she would have, under other circumstances. Turning to her right, she smiled at the weight on her arm, and patted that hand that rested there.

Once her grandmother arrived in Hillwood, Helga asked Olga if she could be the one to escort her into the party. Olga's original idea was to have herself and Helga escorted in by the guy of their choosing. Of course Olga would walk in with Kevin, but Helga saw this as an opportunity to walk in with Arnold on her arm. An even better alternative for her, was to walk in with her grandmother, especially after she decided that it was her grandmother's dress that she'd be wearing.

The room quieted once Helga and Lady V's presence was known, and Helga surmised that everyone was just waiting for them to make their way over to Big Bob and Miriam, who were clearly surprised. Helga looked up from her grandmother to the faces around the room, naming off those that she could remember, and smiling politely at those she could not. Bringing her eyes to her parents, she questioningly eyed the person standing just behind them, face hidden by a large black camera. Helga began smiling harder, trying not to laugh, realizing that Arnold was the photographer, and was doing a fine job of taking her picture without her knowledge.

Once she reached her parents, which took a while, as her grandmother was setting the pace, Miriam enveloped her in a hug, while Big Bob stood alongside his younger daughter, pulling her into an awkward hug as well. Helga returned the sentiment, knowing that it was something Bob simply was not good at, and smiled, despite herself.

"Good job, girl." he said, releasing her. Helga nodded, the most she heard from her father in a matter of days. Miriam was next, too flabbergasted by the numerous surprises to say much, but bringing Helga into the circle of her arms happily. Pulling back, she eyed Helga, curiously.

"Helga, you look wonderful. That's not…"

Helga shrugged before nodding, looking around at her family. Her dad went without noticing, already giving his mother a hug, and even if he was not, Helga surmised that he wouldn't care about the dress anyway. Miriam was looking rather ecstatic, inspecting the dress in disbelief. Olga too, was staring at her sister in disbelief, only with far less glee in her eyes.

"That's not…is that grandmother's dress?" Olga asked, just above a whisper.

"Yeah," Helga said, spreading the topmost layer of sage-colored chiffon. "She showed it to me when I went to pick her up and…gave it to me-"

"_Gave _it to you?!" Olga exclaimed, before calming herself down. "I've never even seen grandmother's dress outside of photos, and you…she…" Olga said, as a deep blush spread from her hairline down her face and neck. "What was wrong with the dresses _I_ picked out for you?"

"Now, Olga, that's not important. Here, lets take a picture…" Miriam said, resting her hand on Olga's arm, and making everyone stand side by side, and looking to Arnold.

Arnold, standing to the side, couldn't help but smile (instead of laughing as he wanted to), at the exchange between the women of the Pataki/Winters family. He knew something had to be wrong with Olga, to buy all those atrocious dresses for her little sister that she seemed to love so much. If they weren't indecent, they were just ridiculous and ugly. When Helga arrived, not only looking amazing in an amazing dress, but one that turned out to have belonged to their grandmother (whom he noticed already favored Helga over Olga), her reaction was rather unlike her. Moving them out of their positions (one that he called 'The Police Lineup', where family members all stood shoulder to shoulder), Arnold readied the camera, and immediately caught Helga's smile through his viewfinder. Unlike those of her family (and especially Olga), her smile was genuine, and more than likely directed at him.

* * *

"Tired yet?"

"I was tired of this party two weeks ago, when Olga started planning it." Helga said, walking her friends back to their table. Phoebe patted her arm and sat down, and Helga looked around for any signs of her sister, before taking a seat. "Are you guys having fun?"

"Are you kidding?" Gerald said, bringing up the rear, with his mouth and plate full. "These little crab cake things…with the sauce? Amazing. Great party, Helga." he said, sitting down across from her.

"I'm so glad the food is to your liking…" Helga said, rolling her eyes. Eyeing some of the couples on the dance floor, Helga's eyebrows shot up, when she noticed who her cousin was dancing with. "Um, guys…why is Lila dancing with _Robbie_?"

"They've been flirting all night. You know how hard it is for guys to resist her…" Phoebe said, nodding.

"Well, I should have seen it coming." she replied, watching them glide around the dance floor. "She _did _ask if he'd be here."

"So, what are you going to do now?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, I have no doubts that Olga's going to come around and ask me if I practiced my song…" she said, pausing to curl her lip. "and then-"

"I meant about Arnold, Helga." she said seriously, as Gerald shoveled more food into his mouth.

Helga blinked, but remained silent. She was not going to deny that Arnold was on her mind the entire day. He was, more or less, the only reason why she spent so much time getting ready for the evening, even going to far as to let Olga do her hair. The process took nearly three hours, and as much as Helga liked the half up style, with waves, she had to take a few aspirin for the headache that came after she was finished.

"I'm not going to do anything."

"What?" Phoebe asked. She was a first-hand witness to Helga doing 'nothing', and the result was named Derek.

"He's the one dealing out ultimatums, like mini quiche."

"Wait a minute." Gerald said, his attention piqued. "You guys are serving quiche…?"

"Gerald, this is serious." Phoebe said to her boyfriend, nudging him in the side. "I understand why you feel like, maybe Arnold should come to you about this, but…maybe there's a way you two can compromise."

Helga took a deep breath and nodded. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to keep from talking to Arnold for the entire night. And, remembering what Gerald told her back when she and Arnold were fighting, she almost had an obligation to talk to him, if nothing else, to let him know what she was feeling.

"Helga, did you want to go practice? I was going to announce you in a few minutes." Olga said, slightly less jovial than before, but having put the dress incident behind her.

Helga sighed and rose from her chair bringing the small handbag with her, rolling her shoulders and moving toward the door to retrieve the sheet music that she stored in the coat room.

In the darkened hallway, she found her sheet music near the dark brown coat she wore over her dress, and arranged the pages in order. A movement from the corner of her eye caused her to jump, dropping the papers on the soft carpeting underneath her.

* * *

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." he said, at the startled blonde before him. His eyes honed in on her shapely waist and exposed neckline. No wonder Derek was so beat up about letting this one get away from him.

Mike wore his usual waiter's attire for the evening, but went through the trouble of combing his hair and shaving. He knew beforehand that Helga would be more inclined to trust him if he didn't _look _like he was after her for some malicious reason.

"It's fine." she eventually said, dropping to her knees to retrieve her fallen papers. Mike followed suit, handing her the few that she missed. He looked into her eyes, trying to form some connection with her, but she only looked frightened, especially since the two were now in such a secluded area of the reception hall.

Standing up, he painted on the best look of innocence he could muster, and asked, "Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Pataki?"

"No." she answered, quickly. She moved around him, but paused at the doorway, trying to discreetly place her bag on the shelf over the coats in the closet. Once the light green train of her dress disappeared from the corner of his eye, he practically lunged for the bag, opening it and sifting through the makeup that it held until her small phone was found.

'_Get her there, under any circumstances.' _he thought, repeating Derek's words in his head.

'Phase one completed.' he thought, pocketing the phone and exiting the coatroom.

* * *

"Have you talked to her yet? I'm getting tired of waiting for that wrinkle to ease off of your forehead." Gerald said, finding Arnold standing at the doorway.

"I keep trying, but Olga has her running errands, or something. I've barely seen her sit down all night." he said, removing the lens from his camera and checking for specks of dust in the interior for the fiftieth time that night.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" Olga said, back on stage, lowering the microphone stand in front of her. "Hi. As you probably know, I'm Olga Pataki, and I'm so glad everyone was able to make it out to celebrate Big bog and Miriam's 35th wedding anniversary." she said, continuing only after the applause dies down. "As an added surprise, my baby sister, Helga, is going to sing, for us all. I'm not sure…what exactly she's chosen, but I'm sure it'll be delightful." Olga didn't sound so sure of that. "Helga?"

From the edge of the stage, came Helga, who offered the crowd a brief and entirely contrived smile, before taking a seat on the same piano bench she last sat on with Arnold. Arranging her sheet music, she let her hands rest on a few keys and attempted to slow her breathing. Glancing to the door, partially because she was considering running away, Helga could feel herself breathing faster, the room beginning to spin, slightly. She blinked, knowing that the inhabitants of the room were watching her and probably waiting for something, either wonderful or disastrous to occur.

Helga lost track of how long she sat there, knowing in her mind that it was probably no more than a few seconds, but feeling as if it were decades. Without warning, her eyes darted to the doorway again, and the two figures there. Gerald and Arnold stood like armored guards, each shooting her looks of reassurance. Arnold, for his part, only sent her a soft and small nod, silently telling her that she was going to be fine. Helga slowed her breathing, and let her fingers graze the polished keys again. Putting minimal pressure on a few keys, she familiarized herself with the sound of the massive instrument, and exhaled, beginning to play.

_"When the rain is blowing in your face,_

_And the whole world is on your case._

_I could offer you a warm embrace,_

_To make you feel my love."_

Helga cringed, knowing that, instead of letting herself get spooked in the coatroom by the suspicious looking waiter, she should have been warming up her throat. She sang the first few lines, knowing that her voice was warbled, and adjusting it as she went along.

_"When the evening shadows and the stars appear_

_And there is no one there to dry your tears_

_I could hold you for a million years_

_To make you feel my love."_

Knowing that her voice was naturally lower than most girls; almost 'husky' as someone once described it, Helga continued making adjustments to the song. She focused the first few minutes of her performance on making sure that she sounded correct, knowing that it kept her reasons for choosing the song out of her head.

_"I know you haven't made your mind up yet_

_But I would never do you wrong_

_I've known it from the moment that we met_

_No doubt in my mind where you belong…"_

Olga asked her younger sister to find a song that reminded them of her parents. Something that encompassed the life they lived together, the highs like when Big Bob's Beepers first opened and their small apartment was filled with excitement. She was wanted too, to capture the lows, when the same company almost closed down; when they worried about staying afloat and raising two children.

And Helga told herself that _this _song, beautiful in it's simplicity, was perfect for them.

_"I'd go hungry, _

_I'd go black and blue._

_I'd go crawling down the avenue_

_No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do,_

_To make you feel my love."_

Helga was also very, very good at lying to herself.

_"The storms are raging on the rolling sea,_

_And on the highway of regret._

_The winds of change are blowing wild and free;_

_You ain't seen nothing like me yet."_

It was no mystery, to anyone who know Helga, and especially to those that knew her current state of affairs regarding Arnold, why she chose that song. AS soon as she heard it, she found it hard to ignore. Even after she presented her list of song choices to Olga, and she declared this one as "too slow…it'll make people fall asleep", after which she promptly handed her sister a CD that was, despite being Grammy-worthy, not at all her taste. Helga couldn't even imagine singing Taylor Swift to her parents.

"_I could make you happy; _

_make your dreams come true_

_Nothing that I wouldn't do_

_Go to the ends of the Earth for you_

_To make you feel my love._

_To make you feel my love…"_

Releasing the breath that she was barely aware she was holding, Helga eased herself back from the piano, and sat for a moment, excited that she made it through the performance without wanting to slam her head on the keys, but grew uncommonly frightful as she sat waiting for some kind of response from the gathered group of friends and family. Everyone sat quietly in her seats, and Helga refused to make eye contact, lest she find that everyone managed to flee the room due to her singing, or the happened to be standing before her with pitchforks.

Helga whirled, as quickly as she could in the voluminous dress and atop the rigid piano stand, to the doorway, where only Arnold stood then, and found him clapping enthusiastically. Until the rest of the room began following his lead and joining him in applause, Helga almost believed Olga's words, thinking that she put the entire room to sleep. Finally looking out into the audience, Helga smiled, watching her mother and grandmother dab at their eyes with dinner napkins, while Big Bob nodded in her direction. Helga shrugged, nervously, and stood, not bothering to stand before everyone for too long, opting to sit at the rounded table with her friends. While the applause die down, Helga's friends offered their congratulations, and Olga, managed to find a microphone, and was speaking into it animatedly.

"Well thank you for that, Helga. As you all know…"

Helga's small smile fell a little further, knowing that, once again, Olga was able to shift focus so quickly from others back to herself. Long ago, Helga told herself that Olga was "chilly", and the only thing that kept her "warm" was the spotlight. Shrugging, Helga watched as Arnold made his way to the table, glad that she was able to do something for her parents, even if it happened to benefit her a little more.

* * *

"May I have this dance?"

The smile that Helga was holding for Arnold dropped, replaced with an expression, built half of pure ire and half out of…well, made entirely of ire. She narrowed her eyes at her charismatic cousin and fought the urge to punch him in the gut. Just as she was going to tell him that she'd rather lick the bottom of his shoe, he shot her a look, moving his eyes quickly to the right, where Arnold was standing, and smirked at her.

Helga raised and eyebrow, and took his hand, allowing him to walk her to the dance floor where a fast paced song was already beginning.

"Mind explaining yourself?" she asked, as he turned her, and she placed one of her hands in his and the other on his shoulder.

"Of course not. I'm helping you." he said, simply, moving quicker than Helga anticipated.

"How so?! He was coming over to talk to me!"

"Helga," Robbie said, sounding far more experienced than he actually was. "The last thing I'd want is for you to look too…available."

"Translation?" Helga asked.

"You've been off running little errands for Olga the Conquerer all evening. Do you think Arnold would be half as determined to talk to you if you were sitting over there all night, taking apart mini quiche with your friends?"

"We're serving quiche? Gerald will be happy to hear that." Helga joked.

"Just admit it now, I'm right." he said.

"I'll let you know if you're right by the end of the evening. Wonderful job, by the way. You sounded great." she said, distracting herself.

"Right back at you…although, I don't think Olga was too excited about it. I overheard her telling people you were going to sing "Love Story"."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Why would I do that? My parents were in their twenties when they met. Not everyone's life is like 'Romeo and Juliet'."

"Hey, I don't mind. You could have sang Shakira for all I care, and it would have been fine with me." Robbie said, as he moved Helga back to their table. "Alright, here's the plan-"

"Wait, what plan?"

"Arnold's coming over, and-"

"He is?!" Helga gasped.

"Yes, but you have to stay cool. He's going to ask if her can have the next dance and-"

"And you better let him have it, or I'll let _you _have it!" she whispered harshly.

"As you wish, Oh Cranky One."

* * *

"They're not doing _anything_. This is pointless!" the young man said, into his phone, clearly flustered.

"Look; you owe me! Just keep your eye on them; I know _something _is going to happen." said the voice on the other line.

"Or _maybe, _you just _want _something to happen, so you have a reason to feel angry and get revenge on her for dumping you. Just give it up, D; they've barely spoken all nigh-"

"Your job isn't to think about my reasons, okay? I know what I'm doing. Just…update me when something happens."

The line went dead, and the teenager stepped from the shadows of the darkened hallway, and reentered the dining hall. As the night drew to a close, he was feeling less and less inclined to help his friend; the only real added bonus was that he may be able to have some fun as well.

* * *

Helga was sorely disappointed. Instead of being swept entirely off her feet as soon as she accepted Arnold's embrace, and dancing their way into the dimly lit courtyard, just outside, she found herself still indoors, both arms over Arnold's shoulder and twisting the mint green cocktail ring that Lila loaned her around her left pinky finger, absent-mindedly. The two spoke very little for the two minutes they'd been dancing together: she complimented his suit, and he, her dress. He commented on the number of people in the room, and she noted the food, and pointed out a few inebriated family members. No talk of his ultimatum, or her trepidation at it's approaching climax.

Just slow, languid, and frankly boring waltzing.

Helga was about to fake a sprained ankle, just to escape the tension they were both trying avoid, when Arnold spoke.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to…I'd like a chance to talk to you." he said, nervously.

"Really?" Helga asked wide-eyed. "You'd like to talk? To me? Because it seems as though I've been trying to talk to you all week. And the only response I ever got was 'Saturday.' 'I'll see you Saturday.' 'We'll talk on Saturday.' Well, for your information, Bucko, there are exactly two hours left in this 'Saturday', and you haven' spoken four words to me all night!" she said, angrily. Exhaling, she blinked and realized that she yelled at Arnold for doing exactly what she wanted him to do all week. "I apologize for that. I was…that…sorry." she said, meekly.

"It's okay." Arnold replied. "I have been wanting to talk to you."

Helga blinked, exhaling again, trying to focus on Arnold's words, as opposed to the fact that she was finally able to talk to him, as she hadn't in what felt like years. When Robbie handed her over to Arnold, the exchange happened so quickly, she barely had enough time to be flustered and giggly, as she expected.

"I guess you can say, that when you started dating Derek, I…I wasn't too happy." he admitted.

"Why?" Helga asked, bravely. She knew that she was treading into awkward and foreign territory, but, she also knew that if they kept dancing around each other, little or nothing would be accomplished, before the end of the evening.

"I…I didn't like the idea of someone meaning so much to you. I know that doesn't make sense; you have friends, tons of friends, and a family. But, for some reason…I'm not sure.

"I even thought, for a little while, that maybe you were dating him because you knew it would make me jealous. As a way to get back at me, for everything that went wrong this summer."

Helga tilted her head to the side, after Arnold began avoiding her gaze, more than likely ashamed of his assumption behind her motives for dating Derek. She decided against interrupting him, knowing that he was making progress without any help from her.

"But, as Phoebe said, you may not be the strongest moral influence in the world-"

"Phoebe said that?!" she asked, pretending o be offended.

"She also said that you'd never do that to anybody. Even if I deserved it."

"Really?"

"Well, not that last part. I did deserve it." he admitted.

Helga glanced down at her feet, momentarily. "Maybe, we could stop talking about Derek now." she said, looking back up, not bothering to hide the grin on her face.

"That sounds like a good idea." Arnold replied. "Before I forget, you look amazing. I mean it."

Helga's face contorted into an unreadable expression, consisting of bared teeth and a furrowed brow line. "Oh…thanks." she finally said.

"What's with that face?" Arnold asked, moving his head back to inspect her visage. "Are you…are you trying not to blush?" he joked.

"No!" Helga responded, louder than she meant to. "Who do you think I am, Lila, or something. You can't make me blush. I don't blush."

"Oh really? Is that so?" he said, removing his hand from hers, and bringing it just under her chin. "Because, there may be something I can do about that…"

Helga's free hand gently moved to his arm, as she tilted her face upward. The remainder of the room was forgotten, as she spoke. "By all means…"

The shock of Helga's life did not come from the feel of Arnold's lips on hers, because t was something she'd felt before. She was not shocked by the sight of his face approaching hers, because, she expected it.

What shocked her was the feedback from the microphone on stage, followed by the overly-chipper voice of her sister, that effectively broke her (and subsequently Arnold's) mood.

"_Crimeny_, Olga!" Helga shouted, interrupting whatever it was her older sister felt the need to say at the worst possible time. Standing still she realized her reaction, and that she was shouting it while gripping Arnold's arm rather roughly. Dropping her arm, rapidly, she glanced around at the shocked faces around her and chuckled nervously. "What…what a shame…the evening has to end. Thank you all for coming, drive safely." she said, excusing herself and walking out of the dining area and into the hall.

Unbeknownst to Helga, her table of friends exchanged glances at her outburst and split into two separate directions as soon as she exited the room.

* * *

"Helga, wait up!" Phoebe called out.

"Yeah, these shoes are not meant for running!" Lila said, trailing behind.

Helga eventually stopped, when she came to the glass double doors of the venue. The hallway was well lit, and a few relatives, with the intentions of leaving early were filtering into the area.

"What are you guys doing? And where did Gerald and Robbie go?" she asked.

"Arnold, explain." Gerald said, trying to look serious, and not steal glances at the freshly sliced chocolate cake with strawberry butter cream icing on the table near them. Right now, he had a friend to console.

"Explain what?" he asked, flicking crumbs off the tablecloth to his right. "How yet another opportunity got ruined?"

"At least, this time, it wasn't my fault." Robbie said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But, of course, this isn't about me right now. It's about what was going on on the dance floor with you and…"

"Helga!" Phoebe said, loud enough to earn her the attention of a few onlookers. "You do not mean that!"

"Actually, I think I do. If every chance Arnold and I have keeps getting stepped on, I have to believe that it's not meant to be. If it was meant to be it would have happened. But it hasn't. And if it won't happen, then why try anymore? It won't, so I won't. See my logic?"

Lila curled her lip. "I'm not sure if that sentence structure is entirely correct."

"Look, Helga, I understand where you're coming from, but…"

"I don't get where you're coming from, Arnold."

Sighing, Arnold took a seat, not caring whether or not it belonged to someone. The party was winding down and so was he. "It's not a big deal. Things will actually be easier, once we just go back to being friends."

"You guys can never be friends again!" Lila said, dramatically.

"Why not?"

"Because there is way too much chemistry between you two for it to go back to being strictly platonic. Plus, it's torture for everyone around you. You can't give up now."

"Oh, yes I can." Helga said defiantly, standing up.

"Of course you can throw in the towel." Gerald said, "But do you really want to?"

"We're not saying you _have _to do anything, Helga..."

"Here's what you have to do, Arnold…"

"Just go find him…"

"Approach the situation with an open mind…"

"Don't panic…"

"And above all else…"

"And most of all…"

"_Say exactly what you need to."_

* * *

"And please be careful with that; it's a rental." Olga said, turning her back to her younger sister.

Helga sauntered off, wondering why someone would rent a giant metal drink fountain for a party, to fill it with water. In the darkness of the parking lot, she made her way to Olga's car and deposited the fountain in the back seat, and closed the door with her hip, too lazy to do it otherwise.

Turning around, she nearly drop kicked the person before her, until she figured out who it was.

"Holy crap, Arnoldo! I almost threw you over my shoulder! You're so quiet…" she said, holding her stomach.

"Over your shoulder?"

"Well, since you're taller than me, I'd probably have to go with the Osoto-Gari." she said, simply. "What? Seven years of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu…"

"Right." he said, removing his hands from the pockets of his suit pants. "We need to talk. For real, this time."

"Yeah, I know."

Rocking on her heels for a moment, Helga spoke up first. "I did date Derek to make you jealous."

"What?"

"I know Phoebe said I didn't, and she's great for thinking so highly of me but, I…that's why I did it." Helga said, hurriedly. "I mean, at first, I didn't. At first, I genuinely thought I found someone who was just nice to me, and thought I was great, and…I was trying to make you jealous. I guess you were right about me."

"Right about…"

"When you said that I was doing all of this for the attention. You were right; it's just how I am-"

Arnold grabbed her shoulders and commanded her attention. "No. That's not how you are. I said all of that because I was mad at you, and also pretty jealous. I know that guys are going to like you, because you're smart and amazing, and a little bit crazy, and I don't mind if you like a guy who really deserves your attention. And, granted, at the time, I didn't deserve it either, but Derek definitely didn't deserve it. I was…jealous."

Helga was feeling dizzy from Arnold's rapid speech, as well as what he happened to say to her. "So, what happens this time?"

"This time?"

"Yeah, this time." She repeated. "Last time, we kissed, and then you told me to call you, and then I did, and we'd go out with Phoebe and Gerald and everything was fine, and then school started, and everything went downhill from there."

"Well," Arnold said, loosening his grip on Helga's shoulders and bringing them to rest over her elbows. "My grandpa always says that if something doesn't work, you should try it again, only backwards."

"Okay…"

"So, since school has already started, that won't be a factor. And I think maybe this time, we should go out, without Phoebe and Gerald." he suggested.

"That sounds plausible." Helga said, looking away and resting a hand on the hood Olga's car behind her. She only fought the grin on her face for a few seconds before admitting defeat.

"What's so funny?"

Helga smiled wickedly. "You were _jealous_…" she sang, biting her bottom lip.

Rolling his eyes, he replied, "It doesn't matter; you were obviously jealous first. This all could have been avoided if you came and told me how you felt, right away."

"Au contraire, my football-headed friend, this all could have been avoided if…"

"If what?"

Helga paused, still smiling, only less devilishly, now. "If you'd gotten your own hotel room." The two laughed at her statement, but Arnold, who was still taller, despite Helga's uncomfortable heels, used her distraction to step forward and leave very little space between them.

"That's true…." he said, quietly. "But really, that wouldn't have been much fun for either of us…would it?" he asked, bringing his head down so that their noses were almost touching.

"I don't think so…" Helga whispered, her smile still in place, as Arnold's lips descended upon hers. Drawing him, close, she reacted to his warm hand on the small of her back, by placing one of her own on his strong jaw line.

The remaining guests entering their cars and exiting the parking area went unnoticed. The excited gasps of Phoebe, Gerald and Lila went undetected. Olga's frantic screaming; the only coherent words being that of a green dress and a rental fountain, were not even heard.

And the silent pacing of a figure, crouched by a dimly lit window, coupled with the nearly inaudible click of a camera was entirely hidden.

* * *

"Did you get it?"

"Of course I got it." Mike lamented, walking to his car, parked in the Employee Parking Lot of the Dining Hall, on the opposite side of the building as the Guest Parking Lot.

"I knew something would happen." Derek said, into the phone, pleased that he saw the inevitable before it happened, but unhappy that it occurred at all. "And you got the phone too?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yeah, I got it all. Calm down."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks" he finished, hanging up quickly.

Mike tossed his phone into the passenger seat, and turning on his vehicle. 'We'll see who gets the thanks…tomorrow.'

* * *

"Everything went perfectly. The caterers were on time, the photos looked wonderful, and there were no major slip ups at all…" Olga said, pausing in her efforts to fold tablecloths to clutch one to her chest and swoon at her progress. Helga made a simple comment on the flowers, which escalated to a forty-five minute conversation about how 'perfect' the evening was.

"I can't say enough how lovely tonight was…it is a shame, though. I wish that dress fit you a little better. Maybe I could have it taken in a bit, or tailored. It's such a shame it's so long, maybe we could have it trimmed…" she suggested, watching Helga from the corner of her eye, but frowning when she realized that her younger sister was not paying attention to her at all. "Are you listening to me, Helga?"

"Huh?" Helga asked, looking up from her stack of neatly folded tablecloths.

"I was just saying how amazing tonight was."

"Yeah." Helga remarked, smiling at her sibling. "It was pretty amazing."

* * *

**A/N: What? Don't look at me like that…I told you to bring a snack…**

**Yay! I finished it! This chapter took forever to write…well actually almost a month. I changed the ending about four times. But, this one sits well with me, even if other parts of the chapter don't.**

**Okay, explanation time: The portion of this chapter, with Helga leaving and Phoebe and Lila talking ot her, while Gerald and Robbie talk to Arnold? Yeah, about that…don't be confused. I was trying to do that thing in the movies, where two conversations are going on in different places, but the people involved are discussing the same thing, and the 'camera' just pans from one conversation to another rapidly, without breaking pace. See what I mean? If you need a better example, check out the story 'Some Enchanted Evening', by BaldoneMpls, Chapter Six. It's a favorite story of mine. I will however warn you, that reading all nine chapters will make you hate him for not finishing it, and not updating since 2005. But, worry not, we're homies, I yelled at him about it, and it's all gravy. **

**Also, the song I used is "Make You Feel My Love" by Adele. It's SO beautiful. Listen to it, immediately. And the chapter was inspired by a MIchael Buble song entitled, "It Had Better Be Tonight", which you should also listen to.**

**Bye!!**

**-Pointy_O**


	37. Blackout Fallout

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 36: Blackout Fallout**

**Warning: Frequent use of page breaks in this chapter. If you have any severe aversions to fighting, or people getting what is coming to them, then you may want to skip this installment. Just saying.**

"_I'm a mess, and, your words just give me time,_

_To give you a waste of time._

_One of those nights, _

_When you leave me for no reason…_

_I'll give you a reason."_

_The Cab_

"_One of Those Nights"_

* * *

Helga was folding her napkin into various shapes (trying to remember some of the origami she learned a few years back) when a cheery voice woke her from her stupor and distracted her from the black wire table in front of her.

"Oh hi! You're back!"

Helga looked up, barely recognizing the figure standing next to her. The lithe waitress beamed at Helga until her memory was jogged enough to identify her. "I remember you!" she said, turning in her chair to inspect the small woman. "Julie…Julia…" she asked, struggling for her name.

"Juliette." she said, smiling, good-naturedly. "It's okay, it's a common name. How've you been?" she asked, perkier than any other waitress that Helga encountered. "Can I bring you a soda?"

"No, that's okay, I'm actually…I'm waiting on someone."

Juliette suddenly stopped smiling, and leaned in toward Helga. "Are you meeting that mean guy again? Because if you are, I can bring you some cake _now_, before he comes. Or, I can leave you a slice inside, and when you're done, you can tell him that you have to go to the bathroom, which would be a great excuse, because, I mean, who follows people to the bathroom anyway, and then you can just go and eat it, and I promise not to tell anyone, because-"

"Juliette, it's okay. I'm not…I'm not meeting Derek." Helga said, smiling due to the excuse that she could have used when eating here with Derek, and about whom she was meeting there that day.

"His name was Derek?" she asked, scrunching her nose, and taking out her pen and pad. "That's weird. Anyway, I'll come get your order in a few minutes." she stated, before moving to another table and taking their order happily.

Helga shook her head and turned back to the street corner, looking out for Arnold, and smiling to herself. Her head turned absentmindedly to the bustling traffic and parked cars across the street, before she sighed and checked her watch again.

* * *

"I think she saw us."

"She didn't see us, you dolt. Quit being paranoid." Mike was quickly growing tired Derek's antics. His "friend" was confident when proposing to trap Helga the night before and even more so when he called him that morning to confirm what his blurry cell phone camera couldn't. Derek convinced him that Helga would easily spot his black car, so they took Mike's less conspicuous and worn down dark green car.

The interior of the vehicle fell silent when a tall male figure approached Helga from behind. She was too preoccupied with tapping her lithe fingers on the dark, iron table and checking the nearest street corner to notice. Derek sat up straight when the figure, who could be no one else but Arnold, tapped Helga's shoulder, but rounded the opposite side of her to take a seat. When Derek ate at the very same restaurant with Helga, in what he assumed to be the same exact seat, he was placed directly across from her. Arnold took his seat, and then moved it so that, while still keeping some space between them, their shoulders touched. Under the wrought-iron table, Arnold subtly took Helga's hand, and the result was a wide, genuine smile from her.

"I've seen enough. Let's go; we need to get back to your place and get ready." Derek said, angrily, putting on his seatbelt and looking through his phone for the old, familiar number. He'd have to let his other accomplice know of any recent developments, before the night was to commence.

"Whatever you say, _boss_…" Mike said, turning on the car, and pulling out of his spot across from the restaurant.

* * *

"I'm glad that's over…"

"What, the party, or your singing?" Arnold joked.

Helga covered her face with her hands. "Ugh. That was the worst. I can't believe I did that…and for _Olga_, no less. I should have told her to go jump up a rope."

"You did it because you love her," he said against a snort from Helga, "And because you secretly like being better than her at something."

"Arnold, "Helga began, in reply. "That's not true. I _love _being better at something than Olga." She began moving her origami half-swan around the tabletop, and looked around for Juliette again. The petite woman had a way of taking Helga's mind off of bigger things with her cheery attitude.

"So, you didn't have any fun at all last night?" Arnold asked, knowingly, giving her hand a squeeze under the table. Helga tugged hers away to cross her arms.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore..?" she asked.

"What?"

"This whole song and dance you and I do. I say something that alludes to the past, and you respond, and we act like everything's the same, but it's not, because we're both thinking the same thing." she stated.

"Point taken. So, do you wanna go out tonight?" he asked, straight forward.

Helga smiled, but tried to hide it. "Yes, I would. I have to check my schedule, though." she joked.

"You can't be too busy; you haven't answered your phone all morning."

Helga shrugged, looking to the table. "I think I left it at the reception hall. I might drop by before the…our…"

"Date. You and I are going on a date." Arnold said, watching a petite waitress approach the table from the side.

"Fine. Date. I'll text you once I've left the reception hall."

"Are you ready to order now?" she asked Helga before noticing Arnold. "Hi! I'm Juliette. I know here." she said, motioning to Helga. "Well…I don't know her, know her…like, I don't know her favorite color, or when she was born or anything like that, but I was her waitress a while ago, and she was with this guy, and he was really mean, and even though I got double tips that day, I don't think it's a good idea to eat with people who are in a bad mood, because I read somewhere, that when you eat, you release these special signals in your brain, and they make you happy, and if you're with people who are mean, or in a bad mood, they might mess with your signals, and-"

"Nice to meet you." Arnold said, cutting her off. He glanced at Helga and noticed that instead of a look of ire, she was wearing a grin, obviously not bothered by the overly-enthusiastic waitress.

"So, what'll it be?"

"I'll just have a root beer for now." Helga said.

"Me too."

"Okay, two root beers." Juliette said, scribbling something on her pad, and slipping it into the wide pocket of her black apron. "Can I ask a…hypothetical question?"

Arnold and Helga looked at each other briefly and nodded.

"If Helga, say…wanted to dash inside after you two were done eating, and maybe get a snack to take home, like a piece of cake, because for some reason that isn't her fault at all, but actually entirely your fault, she didn't eat last night…would you let her?" Juliette asked, rocking on her heels excitedly.

"So, you're asking if I'd let Helga get cake?" Arnold asked back. His response was an enthusiastic nod. "I don't own Helga. She can get cake if she wants it. But, if it's chocolate cake, I'd have to insist that she get a slice for me as well."

Juliette's eyes, and smile, coincidentally got wider and she hopped back into the restaurant happily to finish their orders. She paused at the door, and offered Helga none-too-discreet thumbs up, before disappearing, one that Helga returned with an awkward thumbs up of her own.

"What was that all about?" Arnold asked, garnering her attention.

"Nothing."

* * *

'_Helga…pick up the phone…I know you're there. Well, if you are there, give me a call back; I need to ask you something about the dance performance. I'll be at a party tonight but just leave me a message…and answer your phone next time, okay? Bye!'_

Derek curled his lip and exited out of the voicemail option on Helga's slim phone. He knew it was all a part of the plan to get Helga, but he was still shocked when Mike tossed him the device that morning, from across the messy bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked, entering the room, carrying a slice of pizza and a camera. Derek shook off a look of disdain and answered him.

"Just checking Helga's messages." he replied.

"Are you sure you're gonna be able to do this? I don't wanna go through all this work for you to punk out over some girl."

"I'm not gonna 'punk out'. And Helga is not just some girl. She was special."

"And you employed me to help you ruin her life because…? If she's so special, something tells me this plan isn't the best way to tell her that." Mike said, chuckling.

"You wouldn't get it. She gave me a reason to do this." Derek said, sifting through her text messages, and preparing the one that would make sure their plans went off without a hitch. He looked through her inbox at the last one she received from Arnold, and angrily pressed the tiny icon of a trashcan in the corner of the screen.

'_Message deleted.'_

* * *

Emptying the contents of the garment bag she used the night before, Helga's shoulders fell when, once again, she couldn't find her phone. She had no recollection of using it that night, or even taking it out of her bag, but it was nowhere in the house and Olga claimed that she hadn't seen it either.

Her home phone ringing across the house caught her attention, and she exited her room in search of the nearest phone. The cordless unit was in its usual place, on the stand by the door, and Helga answered the phone hurriedly, suspecting another donation hotline, or a solicitor.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Helga Pataki?" the voice on the other end asked politely.

"Yeah, that's me. What do you need?" she asked, impatiently. She'd been searching for her phone all day, and with nothing to show for it, Helga was in no mood to trifle with time.

"My name is Michael; I work at the reception hall. We found your phone last night, and I wanted to you to know that we have it."

Helga sighed, and felt a tinge of remorse for being so rude to someone who managed to help her out when she needed. "Really? That's great. Is it still there?"

"Actually, no. if someone leaves property at the hall, we have to take it with us, for liability issues. I have it at my house right now, if you'd like to come and get it."

Helga brought her thumbnail to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. Bob and Miriam were far from the perfect parents, but two things they taught her about strangers was not to go with them, no matter how much candy they offer you, and never go into a stranger's house.

"Are you still there?" Michael, asked. "I will warn you, I'm having some friends over, so the house will be a little crowded. I'll make sure you get your phone, though." he offered.

Helga bit clean through her nail. He sounded legitimate enough. And it wasn't as though she'd be alone with him; he openly told her he was having a party. She looked over her shoulder with the sinking feeling that she was doing something wrong, but quickly came up with a plan and tore her hand from her mouth.

"I'll be there at seven."

* * *

"All systems are go." Mike said, hanging up his phone. "That was easier than I thought."

"Are you sure? She said she's coming?" Derek asked, nervousness lacing his voice. Mike rolled his eyes. He hated when Derek did that. He had to smile though; there would be no question who the mastermind behind this plan was.

"_Yes_, Captain Worrywart. She's coming. Did you send the text already?" he asked impatiently.

"Not yet." Derek said, fishing Helga's phone out of his pocket and quickly typing the prepared message. He typed quickly and sent the message, smiling despite the slight doubt forming in his chest.

* * *

'_Sorry. Cant make it tonite. See u around'_

Arnold furrowed his brow at the message, and pocketed his phone. Assuming that Helga found herself at the mercy of her sister, or parents, he thought little of the short and concise note, before arranging the remainder of his, now, empty evening.

Thinking back on the night before, Arnold felt a wave of relief wash over him. Helga was right; their 'song and dance routine' had been going on for too long, and all they had to show for it was repeated fights, hurt feelings and not enough communication. Not to mention the strain they managed to put their friends through, having to stay neutral while still trying to help, he began feeling a little guilty. Whatever was going on with he and Helga's best friends was an n issue quickly shadowed by their own self-inflicted dramatics.

Thinking on it, Arnold started to feel less and less assured that Helga was truly cancelling on him. The genuine smile she gave him before leaving the café, told him that she wasn't going to get too tied up. And Helga rarely, if ever, communicated anything via text message.

His suspicions grew steadily as the night progressed, and after trying to call her number back a few times, Arnold left his house, heading for the emptied reception hall.

* * *

Helga wiped her dry brow and gripped the steering wheel of her car before exiting and locking the door behind her. She saw (and heard coincidentally) the house where the party was being hosted from several doors away, and decided that, from the loud voices she could hear from her spot on the curb, there wouldn't be much of a problem with her entering the party alone. Cautiously, she left her belongings in the car; her only intention was to enter, retrieve her phone, and make a hasty exit.

The door to the large home was open to the street, and Helga stepped in, observing the people around her. No one seemed to follow the norm of most house parties she happened to find herself; there were a few people attempting to provide entertainment through risky and otherwise stupid stunts, a few girls wearing not nearly enough clothes to not be taken for lascivious nightwalkers, and a house that was in serious need of a new Hoover and a bottle of Febreeze. Aside from that, and the crowded conditions, Helga didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. In an instant, she realized her own trepidation, and began pushing her way through the tightly woven crowd. Shoving a particularly tall, red-headed boy away from her, Helga decided to start looking for the reception hall waiter, even though she didn't remember what exactly he looked like. Besides that, she doubted he'd be wearing the same thing as the night before, making him harder to identify.

Before she could finish her thought, an arm shot out and a large hand gripped her elbow, pulling her aside. Helga was ready to wriggle free, when she came face to face with the same face that managed to scare her in the coat closet the night before.

"Glad you could make it."

Helga stepped away, moving her arm to that his grip slacked until his arm hung by his side, She watched dejection flicker on his face for a moment, before his confidence took over again. "Do you have my phone?" she said, speaking over the volume of the room.

"Sure, it's back here." he said, walking in front of her toward a crowded hallway lined with doors. He noted the look of hesitation on her face, but knew that she'd be obliged to follow, and smiled when she did. He opened the door for her, watching as her hands slid nervously into her jean pockets as she crossed the threshold into the room. Since that afternoon, he managed to clean up enough to no longer rouse suspicion, but knew that Helga was probably eyeing the dirtied clothes and unmade bed. On the desktop was a random assortment of items, next to a large fish tank, completely devoid of fish. When he walked away from the door without closing it , like she expected, he smiled as her shoulders fell slightly. She was getting relaxed, but better yet, she was getting careless. And Derek told him this would be hard…

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd come by. I'm sure you needed to get your phone back…" he said, stepping around her to walk to the bookshelf at the far end of the school. Lifting the phone to her eye level, he held it out, his gaze wavering to the door for a split second. He was glad that this time, however, Helga didn't catch him. "look familiar?" he asked.

Helga stepped forward to take her phone, already imagining herself in her car, driving away from this house and all the people in it, but was distracted by the sound of a creaking door behind her. With her hand still held out, she turned and moved back, towards Mike, at seeing who was there, waiting for her.

"Derek?" she asked, before a sick realization flashed in her mind. One that she should have caught on to long before, and the dread that followed knowing she was too late.

Her body was not even turned toward her now ex-boyfriend when a heavy, blunt object made contact with the back of her head and she fell to the floor.

* * *

"You didn't have to hit her _that _hard." Derek said, walking toward Mike, but keeping his eye trained on Helga, looking for any signs of movement. She was at a weird angle, half turned, lying on her stomach with on arm under her belly and the other in front of her face.

"You're the one who told me to hit her." Mike said, placing her phone back on the bookshelf.

"I didn't tell you to hit her!"

"You said 'Knock her out.' How does Mike Tyson knock people out?" Mike said, crossing his arms. He hated when Derek got petty and stupid. It was one of the reasons, among others, why they weren't friends anymore. A minor reason, especially after Derek found out that it was Mike who Viola cheated on him with. After that, all their small and trivial personality traits only looked more and more unappealing, until, eventually, the friendship died altogether.

Even now, standing on the shores of a plan they formulated together, they did not consider themselves friends. They were allies, accomplices, and collaborators, but they were _not _friends.

"Still…" Derek said, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. This plan was looking more and more risky as time went on.

Mike shrugged once. "I offered to do it my way, but-"

"No." Derek said, finding his voice and dropping his hand. He didn't like 'Mike's way' of doing things sometimes. Mike was never truly against hurting others for the sake of his own pleasure or wants, and he certainly wasn't close enough to Helga to honestly care about her. Derek was no saint, either, he admitted to himself at that time. He wanted Helga to feel humiliated, of course, but he didn't want her to get hurt. He surmised that maybe, even if he was working alongside Mike, she might still be able to escape harm. Maybe.

"Fine. Help me lift her on the bed. Where's that camera of yours?"

* * *

"Another weekend, another party…gag me, please." Lila said out loud, but to no one in particular.

"What's that, babe?" The guy standing closest to her asked. She ignored him; he was clearly a few years older than him, and he guessed that he made college (and, obviously, college parties) a career as of late. Lila was, yet again, at a party. She feared becoming like the man next to her; drifting from party to party, house to house, with little other purpose in life. She thought briefly about the four colleges she applied to, and the same four she had yet to hear back from. Three of those were Medical Colleges, specializing in fields ranging from Nurse Practitioners to Radiologists. She thought about the other nursing students she worked with, all very content with being nursing students, happy to wear their pink, or red, or blue and white scrubs to work everyday, and have someone tell them when they were needed. Lila, on the other hand, didn't mind going to school for much of her young life, just so she could know when she was needed.

The last of the schools she applied to was a university across the country. It was not special to her, she didn't want to go there, and even if she did, she saw no objective coming from it, aside from another four years of partying. If she was going to quit, she decided, she'd do it having fun. Or at least pretending.

Resting her cup down, she moved away from the stereo and throngs of people down a packed hallway, looking for a bathroom (or an escape). Another reason she so hated parties was because she rarely, if ever, found anyone at them with whom she could relate. If she came with a group of friends, they'd usually scatter once they entered, coming back together only when someone was ready to leave. Most often she came with a date; some boy who was looking to walk in the room with the pretty redhead, and ditch her as soon as the Foosball table came out.

Lila thought back to her old friend Lucy, and their days of party-hopping, when they were too young to drive or know what they were getting themselves into. The last time she spoke to Lucy, she was…better. Better than usual. Surging forward, Lila pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, intent on finding the bathroom. Once she found it, the line outside the door deterred her need to go (if it existed at all) and she began wandering. Most of the doors in the hallway were open, but the one that was closed looked like a cautionary warning, telling Lila to stay away. Nevertheless, passing the crowd meant practically pressing herself against it. She winced, facing the door, and trying to squeeze past several people who ignored her polite "excuse me". With the door so close to her, she could not ignore the sounds going on inside.

"Derek?" she heard from outside, followed by a short grunt and a thud. Her eyes widened at the name itself and the voice that spoke it. In a few moments she heard hushed voices, and movement. Carefully, she tried the door knob, turning it slowly so as not to arouse any suspicion, but found it locked. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for more details.

"…be right back…" someone said, before the door opened on her and she was face to face with one of the voices. She couldn't decide whether or not she was safe. Not yet.

* * *

"Can I help you?" Mike asked the tiny redhead in front of him.

Lila blinked once, and mentally adjusted her mask. "Help _me_?" She asked, dramatically. "You sure can!" she said, smiling widely.

"Okay…" he said, closing the door behind him, and causing Lila to back up a little. Before the door closed completely, she tried peeking through the door, but could only see the dirtied floor and the corner of a bed, before it was shut.

Lila blinked again, and feigned offense. "Don't tell me you don't remember me! It's me! Lucy!" she said, using the name, even though it struck a chord in her heart. "From…Matthias' party back in…January! Yeah, the New Years Eve party!"

"Wouldn't that technically make it December?" he asked, smiling. Lila smiled in response, knowing she had him hooked. Very few boys were able to _not _enter into a conversation with her.

She giggled, even though the sound made her look a little silly and inhibited. "I hardly remember the ball dropping, let alone the month…" she said, placing a hand on his arm. Just as she was about to speak again, he cut her off, glancing down the hallway for a moment.

"Look, I'd love to stay and chat, Leslie, but I have some business to take care of."

"Business?" she asked, raising her eyebrow playfully. Even though her insides were melting.

"Yeah, helping out a…friend. Find me later, okay?" he asked, not-so-discreetly placing a hand on her thigh before walking away.

Lila sneered and shuddered, before walking in the opposite direction, and puling out her phone. Her confidence in helping Helga, whom she suspected to be behind the door, was overcome with fear that she could not, that she would fail again.

The phone in her ear rang, and at the first sound of a voice, she began speaking rapidly, hoping that there would be enough time for help to arrive.

After hanging up, Lila waded through the living room, and into the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until she found a screwdriver. Perching herself around the corner from the familiar room, watching Mike reenter, waiting for her opportunity to strike.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Derek asked, once Mike entered the room. Neither of them had the liberty to disappear for too long. There were too many people around, and it was far too likely that someone could have seen Helga enter and not see her leave. Derek knew his paranoid mind was taking over, but he could think of little else in such a state. Pocketing his point-and-shoot camera, he stepped away from the bed, and away from Helga. She wore all the clothes she wore when she entered, minus her heavy hooded-sweatshirt, and lay on the bed as if passed out and sleeping. One of her hands was placed behind her head, and the other was loosely clasping an empty beer bottle, while different bottles of varying colors and sizes were scattered around her. It wasn't the way Derek like dot take pictures, but Viola assured him that anyone who saw the photos would assume the worst, and immediately inform Helga's dance instructor, and in turn Caroline Henrietta.

"I got a little caught up." Mike said, watching Derek nervously walk around the room, glancing at Helga's limp form every now and again. He needed Derek to leave, and soon. "You gonna upload 'em now?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. I'll do it at home." Derek said.

"Relax, man. You came and did what you had to. And look, "he said, gesturing to Helga. "No one got hurt. No harm, no foul."

"Are you sure this was-" Derek started asking, as Mike began ushering him to the door.

"It'll be fine. Go have some fun. I'll stand watch." Mike shut the door behind Derek, and made sure to lock it as well. Removing a small plastic bag from his pocket, he advanced across the room, and reached out to move Helga's head to face him. Once again, he wondered why Derek was so concerned over this girl, who, despite being attractive, clearly wasn't paying him any mind. He surmised that Derek got too attached to things. There was Viola, a girl who convinced Derek to turn against Helga, but referred to him as "her property". She had no problems putting things in perspective. Why did Derek?

Easing her chin down, Mike revealed the bottom row of Helga's teeth and a sliver of her pink tongue. Sliding a small, round, white capsule into her cheek, he maneuvered her mouth closed, and took a seat across the room from her. Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

Lila glanced at her watch, and moved from her hiding spot. Moving quickly, so removed the screws from the door knob, and smiled when the lock, now removed, made the door give way. Clutching the screwdriver, but hoping she wouldn't have to use it, Lila swung the door open with such force that it hit the inside wall with a loud thud.

"Leslie?" Mike asked, standing up.

Lila strode over, angered by the figure on the bed, and his mistaking even her false name. Rearing her hand back, she brought her tiny fist to the bridge of his nose with a loud crack. Immediately, Mike brought his hands to his face and wailed like a baby.

"Actually, it's Lucy."

* * *

Arnold weaved his way through the jam-packed house, wondering why Lila placed an erratic call to him, of all people, asking him to help her out at some house party, ten minutes from his own home. He hoped she didn't get herself into trouble, but was sure that if anything, it was a small matter that may have just gotten out of hand. He remembered from their brief conversation that she told him to come into the house, and find the bedroom where a lot of noise was coming from. Upon hearing a loud wail from a room just ahead, Arnold had to commend Lila on her excellent timing.

Turning into the room, however, his face paled at the site. An unknown guy was on the floor, moaning and clutching his face, and Lila was attempting to lift Helga over one of her shoulders, much like he had back in New York.

"What happened?" he asked, in a volume higher than he intended.

"I need a hand with her. I'll explain in the car." Lila said, under Helga's weight. Lila allowed him to take Helga from her temporarily, even though she wanted his hands free in case they met anyone else on the way out of the house. "We need to get her out of here. Is your house okay?" Lila asked.

"No, it's not."

For the second time that night, Derek made an unexpected and unwanted entrance.

* * *

"What did you do to her?" Arnold asked, passing Helga's weight back to Lila, who, not expecting it, tipped slightly before gaining her footing. Arnold stood so close to Derek, that the fear flickering in his eyes was evident. This, obviously, was not part of the plan.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked back, trying to curb some of his alarm. Arnold's rage erupted and he pushed Derek away from him, sending him back into the hallway, falling onto the ugly brown carpet. A few people looked, but chalked it up to a typical party-fight, and ignored them. Derek scrambled to stand, turning his face away from Arnold momentarily. When he faced him again, rage flashed in his facial features, and a flesh colored blur came at him from the side, striking him in the eye.

Arnold reeled back, content with Derek's place on the floor, holding one hand over his eye, and swearing. Walking back in the room, Arnold easily lifted Helga onto his shoulder, his heart breaking at her stance. He attempted to carry her gingerly, but the bodies pressed against them, once they entered the hallway, made the task a difficult one. Once outside in the cooler night air, he asked Lila to open the door to the backseat of his car for him, and when she did, he tried sliding Helga in. Lila quickly rounded the other side of the car and entered, holding out her hands to receive Helga from her end. Working together, Helga was placed on the backseat and Lila stayed in the backseat with her, Helga's head in her lap.

Arnold walked around the car, and entered the front seat with haste, turning on the car. But switching off the radio as soon as it came on, and driving toward his house.

* * *

Viola waved prettily at a few friends from across the room, walking down the hallway like a runway model. Some watched in awe, most in disgust. Her confidence was sickening; she looked lie she'd just won the Lottery, the Miss America crown and the Kentucky Derby.

Once, however, she came across her ex-boyfriend laying in the hallway with a black eye and split lip, and his ex-best friend with a bloody nose, her confidence fell. Inside the room, there was no Helga, no grand master plot. Walking over to the fishbowl she began turning bright red at the object at the bottom. Derek's sleek, black point-and-shoot camera was covered in a fine later of tiny bubbles. Derek's camera, the same one that was supposed to have Helga's embarrassing photo on them. The same one Lila took from his pocket before they left, removed the camera card from, and tossed unceremoniously into the fish tank.

Viola let out a high pitched scream, derived from utter frustration, and lack of result from her plans, until she was out of breath, and left to stamp her high heeled shoes into the floor.

Passersby were sure to avoid that room for the remainder of the night. It seemed like people went in perfectly sane, and left without any semblance of rationality.

* * *

_FERBRUARY!_

_February was the last time I updated. Feel free to hurl your rotten vegetables at me. To be honest, yes, things have been crazy, especially after Lady V's death, I kind of didn't want to write at all for a while. Then school got crazy, and it's still crazy (I'm a Law Student, now, you guys!) but I'm making time. Plus, it's summer, so even though I'm doing a lot more now, I'll try to be more regular. This was, honestly, the hardest part of the story to write, because it could have gone SO wrong (I think it did in some places, but by the end I liked it). Many emotions from here on out. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Pointy_O_


	38. Hero

**The Compromise**

**Chapter 37: Hero**

______

"And we're trying to be faithful  
But we're cheating, cheating, cheating…  
I'm the hero of this story;  
Don't need to be saved.  
I'm the hero of this story;  
Don't need to be saved.  
I'm the hero of this story:  
Don't need to be saved…"

Regina Spektor

"Hero"

* * *

"Okay, I need answers. Like, _now_."

Arnold waited until they pulled a good ten feet from the house containing the raging party before addressing Lila. Nevertheless, when he did so, he was forceful and slightly abrupt. At least more so than usual.

"We need to get her to a hospital-"

"Why?" he exploded. "What happened in there?"

Lila was surprised that Arnold could raise his voice like that, but even more so that he could maintain a moderate driving speed while doing so. "Yes, by all means shout at me, Arnold, the person who helped save Helga in there! I don't know what happened, exactly, okay?" she retorted before calming down. "I heard voices inside a room, and I thought it sounded like Helga, and then I heard this thump, and then everything just sort of happened."

"Was this before, or after you called me?" Arnold asked, attempting to employ some breathing techniques his grandmother used.

"Before. After I called you, I kind of stormed in and punched the waiter guy."

"Waiter?"

"Yeah. It wasn't until after I slugged him that I noticed. He was one of the waiter's at the party last night. I didn't think he knew Helga at all, but after what happened…"

Arnold furrowed his brow and continued driving toward the nearest hospital. What connection would a random waiter have with Helga? And what was Derek's deal? He had too many questions in his head to focus on just one, and decided that getting Helga to safety was of priority.

"Is she hurt?"

"She's got a nice-sized goose-egg back here," Lila said, feeling the back of Helga's head with her hand and keeping her steady in the back seat with the other. "I don't see any cuts, or lacerations…no signs of struggle, or anything. Even if they did hit her, or something-"

"_Hit her?_" Arnold exclaimed.

"-I don't see how she could stay out this long." Lila said, checking her head and neck again. "It's almost as if she were…"Lila brought her hand, almost absentmindedly to Helga's face, feeling a lump under her cheek, as she made a pass over her friend's face. After volunteering in the ER, and having her fair share of removing foreign bodies form the mouths, ears and noses of toddlers and children, pulling back Helga's top lip was nothing she would so much as grimace over. Pulling out from over her gums what looked like a loose tooth, Lila held it up to the window to her left and tried to examine it under the passing streetlights.

Realization flashed in her mind suddenly, and she stared down at Helga before she felt tears begin to creep their way from the corners of her eyes. Wrestling with the knob, she lowered the back window of the Packard as much as she could, and with a cry of anguish, hurled the dissolving pill from the window, not bothering to roll it back up, before hugging Helga's limp body to hers and crying.

Arnold didn't notice Lila's movements until she'd managed to open the window, and by the time he addressed her, she was sobbing into her friend's neck, repeating something he could barely hear. "Lila? Lila what happened? What's wrong?" he asked, growing more and more concerned.

"Turn around." she said, taking a deep breath.

"What?"

"I said, turn around. We have to take her to your house. Or mine. Just do it." she said, more forcefully.

"Lila, she needs-"

"Whatever she needs, she's not going to get it in the ER! We have to help her now! Turn around!" she shouted, collapsing again, her chest heaving and contracting as she sobbed. After Arnold made a U-turn in the direction of his own home, he returned his attention to backseat. Lila was no longer visible in the rearview mirror, having bowed low to hug Helga's limp body to her own, muttering something to herself as he drove.

* * *

Arnold heaved Helga up to the last step of his retractable staircase, and waited as Lila slid around him to open the door. She intended to carry Helga herself, a feat she assured him she could take on (noting that she'd done so before, but not elaborating), but Arnold insisted upon taking her into the house. Lila's outburst in the car made him think that Helga may have been in worse shape than Lila was letting on, and being able to carry Helga was helping him. Somehow, the familiar feeling of carrying her to safety, feeling her heartbeat, even though his was deafening in and of itself, was a comfort to him.

"Put her on the bed." Lila said, after opening the door and stepping aside to let Arnold in. Before Arnold could rest Helga down (or attempt to ask anymore questions), Lila began reading of a laundry list of orders.

"Okay, we need warm water-not boiling- warm, and cold water. Not too cold, though. Do you have a thermometer and a stethoscope? I need both. Oh and I need your computer. What's the password?"

Arnold took a deep breath, and tried to keep his anticipation at bay. "Lila-"

"Arnold, I swear, I will explain everything, okay. Everything. But, right now, I need to figure out what's wrong with Helga. I think I know what might have happened, but I'd like some hardened facts, okay?" she pleaded, folding her arms over each other. Arnold noted her vulnerable stance, the sadness in her eyes, and the brief realization that this may be more than just Helga he was dealing with.

"Okay." he said, sparing a glance back at Helga and abandoning the room.

"Mitzi's middle name." he said, before closing the door behind him.

"What?" Lila asked. She already had her hand pressed to Helga's forehead.

"My password." he said, attempting a smile.

"Invite the hackers right in, why don't you?" she said, before shooing him off with a hand motion and setting to work.

Downstairs, Arnold found two metal cooking pots, and set to filling them with water from the kitchen faucet. Pushing thoughts of Lila and her hidden reasons for wanting to take care of Helga away, he let his mind wander back to Derek. If Lila was indeed right; that he had something to do with whatever was wrong with Helga, Arnold had to wonder why. He was fully aware that Derek took their break-up harder than anyone imagined. Whether it be from sheer possessiveness, or a genuine adoration of Helga, nothing justified his involvement in any action that could hurt Helga. And whoever the 'waiter' was, that Lila recognized, had to be a part of it as well. There were too many pieces to a puzzle he didn't know the outcome of, and it frustrated Arnold.

The cooking opt of cold water was easier to manage than the one containing the warm water, but Arnold handled both, and made it back up to his room with ease. Lila was facing away from him, quickly scrolling down a webpage entirely devoid of pictures. While he placed the basins around the room in a manner that would keep either of them from accidentally knocking them over, he watched a she took a few brief notes on a piece of paper and abandoned the site for another. She repeated this action a few times, typing rapidly when needed, taking notes and moving her green eyes around the pages quickly. In a mater of minutes, she stood up, carrying her notes with her and sat on the bed next to Helga. Wordlessly she moved around, doing things Arnold recognized from medical shows: checking her breathing, pulse, and a few that he didn't. She lifted Helga's top lip to examine her gum line, and pried her eyelids apart and examined her eyes. Arnold had half a mind to ask what she was doing, or how he could help, but knew she'd let him know in time.

Lila eventually sighed, and backed away from Helga, letting her shoulders drop.

"What's the word?" Arnold asked shoving his hands into his pockets. He then realized that he'd only activated one light In his room since they entered, and motioned to turn on more. The eerie darkness over half of the room was making him uncomfortable, at least, more so than the two women inhabiting his room.

"Helga…in addition to the knot on the back of her head, was given a mild sedative, probably to aide in keeping her asleep. Her reflexes, vital signs are all normal, she's just…knocked out." Lila said, folding her hands over her lap.

"Mild sedative? Like a sleeping pill?" Arnold asked. He sensed that Lila was watering-down the severity of the issue for his sake.

"Ehh…something like it. It's hard to tell. It looks like, from her reaction that it could have been anything from a prescription drug used as a sleep aide or…a homemade date rape drug."

"_What_?" Arnold asked, his eyes widening in surprise. 'Derek gave her a date rape drug?"' he asked himself.

Lila blinked rapidly, and presented her palms to Arnold. "Please calm down. It's unlikely that that's the case. Date rape drugs are meant to cause at least some memory loss, and paralysis. If that's the case, there would have been no reason to knock her out before hand. Not to mention, Helga's been somewhat responsive so far. I've never seen a drug wear off that quickly. "

Arnold began pacing the room, half from the shock of Derek's actions, and half from Lila's reaction. He wondered how she could manage to be so calm about everything that happened. Wasn't Helga her friend? Didn't she care?

"We need to go back there. We have to tell someone-"

"It's been taken care of." Lila said, retaining her calm composure. Unfortunately, this did little for Arnold.

"How?"

"I called the police while you were downstairs. Gave them the address and the description of two guys, bloody noses and black eyes included, at a loud, raucous party who may have been in possession of some drugs." Lila said, proud of herself, but not smiling. There was a distance in her eyes that Arnold couldn't read. He meant o ask her, but she interrupted him again. "I do need you step out the room for a moment, though."

Arnold looked around. "Why?"

"I have to check Helga for any signs of trauma…just to be safe."

Arnold blinked. "Okay."

Lila rolled her eyes. Men. "There's a possibility I may need to remove her shirt, Arnold."

Arnold's eyes widened again, this time in realization, before he made his awkward retreat from the room. Before he left, he noticed Lila smile at his antics, the first smile he saw from her that night. Something told him however, that when she did reveal how and why she was able to help Helga do extensively, there would be no reason at all to smile.

* * *

"So…where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I didn't fight anyone." Arnold said, in his own defense.

"Did too! You clocked him right in the face. It was _fantastic_!" Lila said, excitedly. "I almost expected a deep, scary voice to come out and say, '_Finish Him!_'".

"It was a long time ago…before you moved here, I think. My grandma taught me some stuff. I've been known to go overboard with it, though." Arnold admitted.

"I wouldn't have minded if you did. Jerk." Lila said, under her breath. Arnold saw the same sadness wash over her, soon replaced by anger.

"Lila, how did you…where did-"

"You may not know this, Arnold, but I'm a budding medical student. I have to know how to fix people." She answered simply.

"Medical? Really?" he asked, relaxing next to her on the couch.

"What, I'm not smart enough to be a future Med Student?" she asked, smiling.

"Of course you are. I just didn't know."

"It's fine. I know what people think of me. Regardless, it's what I want to do. Besides, who else could rock a monogrammed pink lab coat?" she asked, smiling.

Arnold nodded. "It seemed, I mean, if you're learning that stuff, you seem to have it mastered pretty well."

Lila sighed. "Unfortunately, I have some experience in the matter." Squaring her shoulders, a habit she obviously picked up from Helga, Lila began her story. "Do you remember a girl from ninth grade…her name was Lucy Hallwell?"

Arnold furrowed his brow, trying to put a face to the name. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't honestly say that he remembered her. "I think. Why?"

"Ninth grade, me and Lucy were best friends. And I mean _best _friends…like Helga/Phoebe, Arnold/Gerald best friends. We were inseparable. She was like my sister.

"Anyway, we kind of got into trouble. Nothing serious, no drugs, or drinking, or that stuff. But, we'd sneak out to parties and stuff. If Lucy's parents said she couldn't date some guy, or whatever, I'd cover for her. Ya know, little stuff like that. We were like…we were invincible together. We could go to a party of seniors and fit right in. Being freshman, that was the best. We felt so grown up." Lila's smile faded a bit as she went on.

"This one time, we got invited to a senior party, a real party, and Lucy had a huge crush on the guy throwing it. She was so excited we got an invite; we went together, like we always did. And whenever we went to these parties, we'd never leave each other alone. It was like, a rule. Strength in number, and stuff. Anyway, this other guy starts talking to Lucy; he wasn't as cute as the guy Lucy liked, but, I mean come on! He was a senior! And we were freshman! We were lucky just to be there. So, they're talking and stuff, and…he offers Lucy this drink. And she kind of gave me a look; the "I know I shouldn't, but what could it hurt?" look, and…I didn't stop her. Later on, she said they were going to take a walk, and again, I let her. We promised to never let the other go off alone, and I did. I did."

It wasn't until then, that Arnold noticed the change in Lila's voice. She was not as good as Helga at holding back tears, and dabbed prettily at her eyes with the knuckles of her thumb and index finger. Her bottom lip protruded out slightly, and she was slightly flushed. She drew breath in through her nose, and sought composure again.

"Lucy didn't have an Arnold to come save her that night." she finally said, swallowing.

"By the time I found her, she was still knocked out, in some disgusting bedroom. I had to practically bribe someone to drive us to the hospital. The guy who took us, you could tell he couldn't have cared less, he drive off as soon as we got out. Anyway, I took her into the ER and tried to tell them what happened." Lila inhaled deeply, wiping at her face now, and Arnold felt compelled to put an arm around her shoulder. "We sat in the Emergency Room for seven hours. Seven hours, Arnold. And we didn't even see a nurse. I mean, I was 15! I was 15, my best friend had just been raped, and no one cared. By the time someone did see her, it was too late. She was fine, but I mean, they figured that it was too late for them to do anything for her.

"I had to call Lucy's parents to pick us up from the airport. It was…heartbreaking."

Arnold found his voice with some difficulty. She was right, the story itself was heartbreaking. He couldn't have imagined going through it himself. "Did she…is Lucy-"

"Lucy and her parents moved to San Francisco a month later. She's fine; she didn't get pregnant, no STDs or anything. For all intents and purposes, Lucy is…fine. But, she's not Lucy anymore. She used to be…like, a light. I mean, you couldn't be sad around Lucy. She just made people happy. I used to say, she could make Marilyn Manson want to buy a puppy." Lila smiled at the memory. "And, I guess, she's still like that. I see it sometimes…a little bit of the old Lucy coming back. But, that kind of thing…it changes people.

"I haven't had a best friend since Lucy. And I'm sure Helga probably finds be…annoying, but she's…I care about her. Even if I didn't, it's nothing I'd want anyone to go through. So, that's my story, Arnold." She said, smiling, even though it never quite reached her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Lila. For you and your friend." Arnold said. He regretted that no other words came to him. Lila shrugged, silently thanking him. "Is that why you want to get into the medical field?"

"Kind of. It definitely was the driving force." Lila answered. "It's been a while since I've seen Loody."

"Loody?" Arnold asked.

"It's a nickname! Don't tell me you and Gerald don't have nicknames!"

"No. " Arnold said. "We are 'Arnold' and 'Gerald'…though I used to be 'Pappa Teresa'. Now, I'm just 'Rick'."

"I don't even want to know." Lila said, laughing. Sitting back, she glanced at Arnold and stated, "You're a really good friend, Arnold."

Arnold shook his head. "And eight years later, it still stings." he joked.

"Oh, no! You can't still be upset about that! And you know what I mean. Like with Gerald and Helga and everything. You are." she said. "And you know you forgive me for all that."

"Do I?" he asked, jokingly. "I fell pretty hard for you back then."

"How could you not? I was adorable then, and I'm adorable now."

"Yeah, you were ever-so charming." he mocked.

"Please don't remind me; Helga does everyday." Lila said, grimacing at her old expression.

"And I'm just ever-so certain-"

"Stop! I get it, okay?" Lila shook her head and stretched. "Alright, after all the friend-rescuing and soul-bearing, I think I need to sleep. Do you have, like, an extra room or someplace I can crash?" she asked, rubbing the back of her head.

"Yeah, there's always an extra room or two. I might need on too, seeing as my bed is occupied." he said, standing and glancing over at Helga's sleeping form.

Lila shrugged and joined him in standing. Once upright, Lila smiled and wrapped Arnold up in a hug that he wasn't expecting, but fell into nonetheless. "Thanks for listening." she said, still embracing him. He patted her back, trying to offer comfort, knowing that what she revealed to him was probably something she hadn't told a great many people in a long time.

Because she initiated the embrace, Arnold expected her to disengage first, and when she did not, he pulled his face back to make sure she was alright. Lila was much easier at risk of giving way to tears than Helga, and he was worried that the gesture may have incited her to more emotions. He was surprised to find her looking back up at him, so vulnerable and small, reacting to his touch with such sincerity.

The embrace was entirely intentional and meant to comfort. But the delicate brush of his lips over hers was both accidental, and completely unwarranted.

* * *

_A/N: I am sooo evil. I mean, June? And for this short little chapter. Antoinette has no excuses. None. Not a one._

_Oh, and that cliffhanger? Yeah, one of my better ones. I was really debating whether or not to do that at all, but I think it…I don't know…does something. I like it a little. And, I'll admit, I cried LIKE A BABY writing Lucy's story. If I think about it too much, I'll cry again. It's never happened to me, or anyone I know, but I can only imagine how horrible it is. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_-PointyO_


	39. Blame It On Me

**The Compromise:**

**Chapter 38: Blame it One Me**

**WARNING: Shortie McShort chapter. It gets better, though. Fanks.**

"_Kiss that girl, and I will shrink up._

_And I will die, and I will think up_

_A thousand ways that I can hurt you._

_And you will never touch my hand…"_

"_Kiss That Grrrl"_

_Kate Nash_

* * *

Arnold woke the next morning with two immediate and gripping thoughts. The first that Helga was, at some point in the night, injured and drugged, and he and Lila managed to get her to the boarding house without any additional harm. The second; clearly the least shocking and disturbing, but a blow to the senses nonetheless, was that he kissed Lila.

Arnold decided to first focus on the former, knowing that too much thought on how the night ended would further his headache and deepen his guilt. The thought that Derek, a guy he barely trusted to begin with, went so far as to intentionally hurt Helga, in turn hurt _him_, and made _him _want to hurt _Derek_. At this point, Arnold was sure that if Derek wanted to see graduation, he'd have to have a remarkably good excuse for his actions, although Arnold couldn't one fathom that at all.

He was aware that attempting to explain anything resembling an explanation to Helga would be nothing short of difficult; she was too perceptive to see through any story he tried to conjur up in his mind, and too stubborn to let it rest. He decided to wait until she woke, to see how much she remembered if anything at all, and start from there.

In the recesses of his mind, he knew what happened. And he knew exactly why. But, after retreating to a vacant room in the boarding house, he tried saying it out loud and knew how transparent it sounded.

* * *

_Lila jumped away from as if she were burned. She covered her mouth with both hands and he winced, noticing the distance they created between themselves and feeling the guilt wash over them, cold and bitter like the wave of an ocean._

_Lila mumbled something into her hand, fueled half by frustration, and half from shame. Arnold immediately ran a hand through his hair, and stole a glance at Helga. He was already hating himself; the act itself was so incidental and momentary, but he couldn't find any way to excuse himself for it, but it was nothing compared to how much Helga would hate him. Any possibility of their forming a relationship would be shattered, and never repaired. Once someone lost Helga's trust, they never got it back._

_Lila, on the other hand, looked entirely crushed. She turned to look at Helga, so sure in her mind that their chaste and seemingly innocent encounter was witnessed, that she was ready to face an irate Helga. Instead, she was almost shocked to see Helga, laying on her side, exactly as she'd been placed when they arrived. The look on her face was so peaceful and serene, that is was nearly impossible to feign, and Lila stepped closer to make sure that they were not all just dreaming. She brushed Helga's wayward bangs from her face and looked back at Arnold to assure him. Both were at least somewhat relieved that Helga didn't see anything, but the guilt was still present and heavy as fog on both of them._

_"I think…" Lila began, her voice crackled, having been dormant for too long. "I'm going to stay here. To make sure she's alright by tomorrow."_

_Arnold mumbled something about a spare room downstairs, gathered a blanket or two from his closet and exited the room, leaving Lila with a short "Goodnight". Much was unspoken between them, and Helga as well, but it would have to be handled in the morning._

* * *

Stretching, Arnold slumped downstairs, and was immediately greeted by the smell of breakfast and the sound of dishes being moved around in the kitchen. It was a Monday morning, and surely enough, they all should have been in school, but he surmised that none of them was in a state to do so. Arnold entered, and smiled at the sight. Lila was practically juggling three pans over the stove, clad in his grandmother's apron, which read, "Happy Fourth of July!" in red, white and silver sequins. She didn't look like she really knew what she was doing, as she cracked and egg over one of the pans, and tilted her head to one side, as if confused. Arnold's chuckle from the doorway snapped her out of her reverie.

"Morning!" she said, excitedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary transpired between the two friends at all last night.

"Good morning. What…what exactly are you doing?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Making breakfast…duh. I'm not sure about these eggs though." she said, absentmindedly.

Arnold smiled again, but it disappeared as soon as he was able to distract himself. "How is she?' he asked, somewhat gravely.

Lila stilled in her actions, and the only sound in the small kitchen was that of the eggs sizzling on the stove. Fine, I guess. Still just…sleeping."

"She hasn't woken up?" Arnold asked, sounding concerned.

Lila shook her head, and tried attending to the stove again, but did so, clearly distracted. Arnold took in her actions again, and noticed that although she was graceful, kind, a little silly, and undoubtedly beautiful, he failed to find himself entranced with her as he was in his youth. Nothing much had changed about her; maybe her knowledge of the world grew, but she was still Lila. She would always maintain those endearing qualities.

But she would never be Helga.

Moments later, when the two were walking up the stairs, carrying Helga's breakfast, the silence was once again broken.

"I'm really sorry about last night." Lila said, bowing her head a little.

"I should apologize too." Arnold said. "That was…last night was…"

"A mistake?"

Arnold couldn't bring himself to be offended by the statement, mostly because it was true. "It was. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. This doesn't change anything between us, but-"

"Helga." he said, wanting to rub the back of his head for the sake of habit. The situation was so tense and unreadable that it seemed neither party knew how to react. They both knew that at some point, the triangle would be truly formed, lines would be drawn, and Helga would have to know what happened, no matter how insignificant the two wanted the action itself to be. They knew not what they were going to say, but each took an audible breath before opening the door.

Upon opening it, they were too shocked to worry about what they were going to say, and were more concerned about what they would do.

Helga rolled her shoulders, discovering yet another mysterious pain. Her night was coming to her in disjointed, unorganized bits; seconds at a time, a flash of a face or room, or smell, and then disappear instantly. Focusing on them gave her a headache, and in the process she found the will to move, despite the signals her body was giving her. She first questioned how she made it to Arnold's room, but remembered that the route and room itself was nothing foreign to her. She didn't need much motivation to go there on her own, and decided to chalk that mystery up to her subconscious and maybe think about it later. She escaped the room the way that she normally came in: roof, fire escape, alley, sidewalk, and began walking to her desired location. Unless her sense of time was as warped as her train of thoughts, she knew it was Monday, but was not at all motivated to go to school. Whatever happened the night before was something she consciously pushed to the back of her head and until she wanted to address it, she would continue running (or in this case, walking) from it.

Her steps were cautious, and still held purpose. She was in a mood, triggered by what she did not know, but she knew where she needed to be to quell it.

* * *

"She was _what_?"

Arnold's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. He most certainly heard Phoebe when she was incensed before, but not quite so loudly, and not with such force. Arnold held his hands out in front of him as he tried to explain. When he called Phoebe, expecting her to be in school, he was happy to find that she was fulfilling the remainder of her credit hours with tutoring. When he mentioned that he ha something important to tell her and that he required her help,. She called the session short, and agreed to meet him at her house.

"Lila said it was a mild sedative. But, yeah, she was drugged. More or less." he explained as Phoebe's eyes widened. He wanted to assure her that Helga was fine, but the truth was that he wasn't entirely sure of that himself. The last time he spoke to Helga, he trusted that she could take perfect care of herself without his help, and the result was detrimental. Another twinge of guilt ate away at him.

"Oh, he's going to get a mild sedative…" Phoebe muttered turning away from him, and sliding her old fencing sword from its sheath.

Arnold's eyes widened this time. "Phoebe….." he said, stepping back. Phoebe and Helga's bond went far back enough that they probably would kill for one another. "Before you kill him, I need your help." Phoebe seemed to calm at hearing that, and Arnold went on. "Lila and I brought her to the boarding house last night, and she was asleep until this morning. When we went to check on her, she was gone."

"Gone where?"

"We don't know. Lila's checking a few places, but she could be anywhere." he said, trying to stay optimistic. They wanted to rule out her going home, but Lila wanted to check there anyway. The school, Phoebe's house, her job, Break-The-Fast, were all options, He hadn't heard from Lila in about a half an hour, and wasn't sure where she was just yet.

Phoebe returned her sword to it's sheath and wanted it to Arnold, who took it clumsily. "Hold this." she said, walking past him. "Do you want to take my car?" she asked.

Arnold was scared to refuse her, and if Helga rubbed off on Phoebe as much as he thought, there was a better chance of their finding her if she was leading the way.

"Sure. Let's go."

* * *

Helga gripped her knees and bent her body at her waist. She couldn't figure out why she was so tired. Normally, a day at the studio would last for several hours, but after only two, she was panting, and sweating profusely. Her mind tried to drift to the night before; to piece together the events she wasn't sure even happened. From what she could understand, at some point she tried to retrieve her cell phone. She remembered seeing Derek and being confused. After that it was a flurry of voices, blurred vision, until she woke up in Arnold's room. Did something happen between herself and Derek? Between herself and Arnold? She shook her head, and stood upright, determined to get at least one of her pirouttes right. Her mind wandered to the competition coming up; it was two weeks away, and she knew she was vastly unprepared. Too many missed practices, and distractions left her bringing up the rear, and Rosso would not be happy about that.

"I should have known you'd be here."

Helga paused, and looked to the door, wondering why Lila was visiting her. The studio she normally practiced in was located in a less known part of town, and even when the school's studio was open, she still preferred this one, She never, however brought Lila with her.

Helga zeroed in on Lila's expression. It was a mix between relief, sadness and something else she couldn't detect. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she looked tired, but still her normal, pretty self.

"Were you looking for me?" Helga asked.

"Yeah. You didn't wonder why you woke up in Arnold's bedroom this morning?" Lila asked, using a little of Helga's wit against her.

"How did you…"

"Helga, something happened last night." she said, calmly. "I took you to Arnold's house. Do you remember anything at all."

Helga furrowed her brow, trying to understand Lila and the ache that still dwelled in her head, only to intensify when she thought of the evening in question. "Of course I do." she lied. "Does it matter?" she asked, her frustration growing, but not necessarily at Lila.

"It does. You've got a headache, and probably a few other body aches. Are you hungry? You need to eat." Lila said, reaching her hand out. "I'll explain, I promise."

Helga jerked away, and Lila was visibly shocked by the action. "There's nothing to explain." Helga blinked, fighting off her headache more. Clearly something happened last night; something Lila was treading delicately on, meaning it was something bad. Helga was no longer surprised that her mind was blocking it. "I'm fine. I have to go." Helga strode past a still shocked Lila, ignoring the hurt on her face and making her way to the door.

"Helga! I need to explain!" Lila called, trying to keep up with her long strides, the task harder since Lila was so much shorter than her friend. She caught up enough to grasp her arm. Instead of pulling away, Helga whirled around, now confused, angry, tired, hungry, and exhausted. She stared at Lila until she caught her own breath and sighed.

"I…I'm sorry, okay? I just want to help." she said, pitifully.

"It's fine, Lye. I'm fine. I'll see you later." she said, trying to direct her anger away from her friend. Too much was lurking just beneath the surface of her memory. Too much to be sorted through at that moment.

"It was an accident." Lila murmured, almost to herself. She felt the beginnings of tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"It's okay." Helga said, somewhat reluctantly patting Lila's narrow back. "We'll talk, okay?"

Lila sniffed and rubbed her tiny red nose. "It was a total accident; you have to believe me. And he's just a sorry. It was…a total mistake."

Helga's brow wrinkled again. "What was?"

Lila's eyes momentarily widened. Somewhere in the conversation, she thought Helga really did remember the evening as a whole, her encounter with Arnold included. She managed to reveal something she wanted to tackle in a timely fashion with the grace of a newborn giraffe.

"I…it was an accident."

"What was?" Helga asked again, growing agitated, but keeping it under control, given Lila's obviously shaken state.

"Last night, I…we…me and Arnold, we…kissed."

And like that, Helga was flooded with flashes of the night prior, a searing pain behind her eyes and the coldest, most distinct feeling of heartbreak she could fathom.

* * *

_Dear Antoinette's Laptop,_

_I would like to think we've had a good run. It's been…what? Two years we've been together? Good times, right? Apparently not. Laptop, you know what the drill is. It's November 15th__. We update a story/stories; you know that. Don't play dumb. So, tell me, why last night, you decided to go crazy? You wanna make friends with a virus, that blocks out our Internet, Anti Spyware systems, everything. You wanna make me copy EVERYTHING I've put into you on discs so that I don't lose anything. You wanna keep me up until five in the morning, being foolish and warning me that every program on my computer is infected when it wasn't. Yeah, you and your little girlfriend **Antivirus Action** had lots of fun last night, didn't you?_

_Well, not anymore. She is banished from this house, as of right now. Yeah, you thought it'd be dandy, didn't you? Oh no. No Spyware, Not in MY house. Now, you sit on my desk for the rest of the day, and think about what a schtink birthday you've given me this year. Dumb computer. _

_Sincerely, _

_Antoinette_

_J__ I didn't think I'd get this chapter out. It's not fantastic. I know that. But the next one should be. I might get around to updating something else tonight, but that's tentative. _

_Oh, and I wasn't lying. I'm 23. GAH. Someone open this jar or prunes for me._

_-PointyObjects_


End file.
